


MADE OF STONE

by ThroughtheMirrorDarkly



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Angst, F/M, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Make a Better Future, Past Torture, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, The Dwarves Like To Sing, The Hobbit and Lord of the Ring Mixture, The Ring Will Be Dealt With
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 252,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4539561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly/pseuds/ThroughtheMirrorDarkly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mistake as a child leave Elizabeth Morgan cursed. She must battle against visions of fire and flame to find a way to end the curse once and for all...for if she falls, so shall the Line of Durin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curiosity Killed the Cat

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nope, Hobbit is not mine. If it were than Thorin, Kili, and Fili would not die. They would live! THEY WOULD LIVE! But sadly, I don't own Hobbit. But I write this fanfic for amusement, and I hope all you will enjoy it.  
> Summary: A mistake as a child leaves Elizabeth cursed, and if she does not find a way to break her curse, she will fall. And if she falls, so shall the Line of Durin. "Endure. It is all you can do. You have to endure, because if you fall…they will all fall."  
> Pairings: Eventual Thorin/OC, Biblo/? (I am open to suggestions on Bilbo's pairing since I haven't anything in mind yet.)  
> Verse: It will be a mixture of the book and movie, but probably will lean more towards the movie since it's the one I know most about. I've only read half of the book so far.  
> Warning: Nightmares, torture, sexual themes and more  
> There is unfortunately only one Tolkien character in this chapter, but you can't miss him.  
> *Note Update 7/2/2017--PhotoBucket has a new policy where my images won't appear. If this isn't reversed, which hopefully it will be, then I will move my photos to a different sight and fix this. For now, please, ignore it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. This is purely for amusement purposes only.

 

_Connected._  


_That is what is what the Grey Wizard told me once upon a time…we were connected, through stings of chance and fate. Weaved together for some ultimate designs that none of us could have foreseen. Perhaps I should start at the beginning, it is after all the best place to start a story. My story started before even I knew that it had started…it started with a stone. A jewel unlike any other, or so everyone believed. It was a globe with a thousand facets shining like silver in the firelight, like water in the sun, like snow under the stars, like rain upon the Moon! It was naught, but a stone at first glance I had thought…then I touched it and everything changed._  


_I became cursed._

  
**  
**

**  
**

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Earth  
Waycross, Kentucky  
April 26th, 2013

The morning had started like any other for Elizabeth Morgan, who at the tender age of eight had become quite the wanderer. At least, in her make believe world she was world worn. She had slain monsters, taken down fierce dragons and had saved a few Prince Charmings along the way. Quite magnificent feats for someone her age. Pulling her auburn hair back into a messy bun because her mother was not awake yet, and adventurer's couldn't always rely on their mother's to take care of their hair. No, adventurer's needed to be able to take care of themselves, Elizabeth thought with a stern nod. After heating up a quick breakfast of ravioli in the microwave because the stove was forbidden territory guarded the most fierce some of foes…her father. She'd rather take on a thousand dragons that tangle with him. He'd put her in the corner. Elizabeth hated the corner.  


Hastily eating her breakfast, she down a glass of milk that was foul but it made the bones strong. Weak bones did no wanderer any good. With her green eyes, she glanced around the quiet home. It was barely five in the morning and the sun had yet to gleam over the horizon. Her siblings and parents were still safely tucked away in bed. It was natural that Elizabeth would already be up when they were not. She had always been the "early bird", her mother had teasingly called her and as soon as she could crawl, she had been venturing off into parts unknown. Her father worried often, but had found there was little stopping her. There was a groan behind her and she turned around seeing her father stumbling into the kitchen.  


Charlie Morgan shouldn't be an intimidating man by any means, standing only at five foot four. He had deep rich brown hair, and he was lean almost to the point of scrawny. Deep wrinkles were set in face by the years that had come and gone, and his green eyes stared down at her in mirth. "Good morning," he said, grabbing his coffee cup from the cabinet above her.  


"What do you mean by good morning?" Elizabeth grinned broadly. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning? Or that it's a good morning whether I wish or not? Or that this is a morning to be good on?"  


Her dad paused, and eyed her with an arched eyebrow. "You've been spending way too much with Mr. Grey, little mocking bird," he mused, filing his cup with water and putting it into the microwave. "Perhaps you should stay home more often…"  


"No way! Mr. Grey is awesome!" Elizabeth pouted.  


Her dad chuckled. Her father didn't always approve of her wandering off on little adventure, but relented when he had discovered that no matter what he did, Elizabeth always found a way to have her adventures. "She has a Wanderer's heart, just like her great-great grandfather," she had overheard her mother tell her father one day. "She goes where her heart bids her to. There is nothing much we can do about it."  


She headed towards the door, but her dad said, "Hold on."  


Elizabeth turned to look at him, a pout on her lips that made her dad chuckle ever so lightly. He placed his hands on his hips, and asked, "Food?" He asked.  
"Made me a PB and J, and I have a bag of jerky," she replied, with a sharp nod.  


"Water?" Charlie raised an eyebrow.  


"Canteen is full," Elizabeth nodded, wandering over towards the pile of her father's things that he gathered for work.  


His wallet, his pocket knife, and her face split into a grin when she saw the glint of gold in the morning light. Her hand slipped around the golden pocket watch, and she snuck into her pocket like she did nearly every morning. She knew her father saw her every time, but he always kept quiet to humor her. Charlie studied her for a long moment, before nodding satisfied. "Alright. You can go," he allowed, as the microwave beeped loudly. "I need you home by noon. Your mother is going grocery shopping, and I have to go to work, so your either stuck with shopping with your mom or working in the Hunting store with me."  


"Hunting store," Elizabeth said quickly then bolted out the door with her father's fond laughter trailing behind her. Her father was a hunter, and taught survival training which is why he was constantly making sure Elizabeth was prepared before she went out on her adventures. He also put up strict rules about how far she was allowed to venture into the woods and how long she could be out there. If Elizabeth broke either of those rules then she would be an adventure no more. So she took those rules very serious because she would miss her trips down to Mr. Grey's house, an old man who lived in a cabin. He told the best stories of elves, and dwarves, and made the best smoke rings though she still told him every time that smoking was nasty. He'd laugh with a merry twinkle in his eye, and put away the pipe to pacify the little adventurer. It was kind of strange how Mr. Grey showed up. She had learned the woods like the back of her hand, she mused as she trudged across the dewy ground with her child sized compound bow and quiver of arrows her dad had made over her shoulder. Pulling her scarf tighter around her face as a cold breeze made her shudder, she remembered how she had stumbled upon Mr. Grey's house that she was certain hadn't been there the day before.  


She mentioned it to her parents, but both of them said Mr. Grey had been in Waycross for years so Elizabeth shrugged it off. She walked the familiar path down Trash Hill, a place where everyone had dumped their junk. Everything from washer and dryers to old pieces of roofing and much more. Elizabeth had built a sturdy shack around the base of a large oak tree where on her lazy days she would go sit and read her favorite books. About what you may ask? Why, adventurers! What else? Grey clouds billowed above, and she wondered if it were to rain. That would be a horrible way to start an adventure.  


But even rain could not diminish the gleeful wonder as she marched around, racing around tree hoping to spy an elf or two. She leapt over the tree roots, releasing a cry as she sent an arrow throw the air. It hit it's target, a picture of her twin brother who was the biggest butt in the universe that she had taped to a nearby tree. A cry of victor escaped her lips, and she crowed with a loud laugh, "The ugly troll has been slain!"  


And she did her happy dance with consisted of jumping up and down, and a poorly attempted moon walk which ended up with her on her bum for she tripped of a tree root. Elizabeth the Great Dragonslayer had conquered another villain and would live to see another day. She sighed happily, lost in her own little world of pretend when she felt it.  


A pulse…not unlike a heartbeat, but instead it trembled through the earth beneath her feet. Elizabeth frowned, which looked more like pout on the eight years old face. Curiosity sparked within her heart, as she knelt down pressing her palm flat against the ground. A gasp torn through her lips as her eyes lit up in wonder. There it was it again! But stronger this time! Wonder filled her, whatever could it be? An earthquake perhaps? No, not an earthquake, she knew instinctively. It feels like a…song? She didn't know why she thought that. It was a silly thought, but she could feel this electric hum in the air that moved in a slow, mournful rhythm. It crackled against her skin and all the hair on her body stood up, as her green eyes scanned the forest around her.  


In all her adventures, she had never felt such a sensation like this one before. In all her life, she had never felt anything like that before! It was strange. It was new. It was exciting! Biting her lip as she literally bounced through the forest trying to find the source of all this energy, she had the biggest grin on her face. She raced through the forest chasing that strange song, completely unaware of the events that she would set into motion. The trees suddenly gave way to a clearing and Elizabeth halted in step. The smile on her face slipped off and she found herself staring at the old railroad tracks. Trains rarely passed here anymore, but it was still the barrier she was never meant to cross.  


Her father had told her the railroad tracks weren't not a playground, and she would not cross it. Ever. But she felt the tremble through the ground once more, and she looked helpless at the woods on the other side of the railroad tracks. Surely, if she was quick and hurried then nothing would happen? Maybe rules were sometimes meant to be broken? She stood there torn between listening and giving into her curiosity. And as any natural child would, she gave into the curiosity a split second later. After all, she would only get in trouble if she got caught. All she had to was make sure that like the day she dyed all her brother's clothes pink, that she didn't get caught. A mischievous grin made its way across her face, and slowly and cautiously she made her way across the railroad tracks.  


Once she reached the other side, she shot a glance over her shoulder as if her father would magically appear and catch her. After a long moment, when nothing happened she turned back around. Straining she fought hard to keep listening to the song that was dancing in the air, and follow the trembles of the earth. She carefully climbed down a steep hill, using a nearby tree to guide her. She couldn't help, but give little breathless giggles each ever steps. This was the best adventure ever! Oh, what was she going to call it? The Mysterious Song? _No, that was so uninspired. It had to be something better than that,_ she thought with a laugh.  


She let out a small yelp of shout when she stepped out of the tree line only to stumble into a shallow creek. The cold water made her shudder, and let out a very unladylike word that her momma would have smacked her butt clean off if she had heard Elizabeth use it. She looked around, trying to figure out where the mysterious song and tremble came from. That's when she saw it, standing there like a mouth in the earth ready to swallow anyone who passed by whole.  


_A cave?_ She thought, blinking hard. Then when it did not disappear, her face broke into a wide grin. She started towards it before pausing. "Oh, please tell me I grabbed it?" She shoved her hands into her pockets, desperately searching before giving a shout of triumphant at finding the flashlight. It was one of her dad's that she nicked when she caught sight of it. Her father had never commented, though she was sure that he knew exactly where it had 'disappeared'. Clicking the flashlight on, she pointed it at the cave. The beam of light cut through the darkness, and Elizabeth started forward once more. She was chewing her bottom lip, a nervous habit of hers as her thought went over all the things that she could encounter in the cave. Imaginary or not.  


The further she got into the cave, the more the temperature dropped and she found her clothes did little to protect her from the chill. However that didn't deter her for she had come too far now. It would do her shame if she came back empty handed. Her heartbeat was poundin like drums in her ears, drowning out the ambient noise from around her. She turned a corner losing sight of the exit of the cave, and she pressed a hand to the cavern wall. They were cold, and hard beneath her palm. Her breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps the further she got into the cave. The world that wasn't in the flashlight was pitch black, and anything could be there.  


There's nothing in the dark that isn't there during the day, she reminded herself, even though she didn't fully believe in that saying. Elizabeth swallowed thickly, and just kept following the song. Finally the tunnel ended, and she found herself in a circular room. The shape of it made her wonder if this was a natural cave. Maybe it was manmade. Like a mine or something. Maybe she'd find treasure. A nugget of gold or block of silver. The thrill of a treasure hunt made her already racing heart beat a little faster and she looked around the room before her gaze finally rested in the center. In the middle of the floor, it dipped in and there was a shallow pool of water that glowed with some kind of strange light. Elizabeth knelt down, her green eyes wide and she gently reached out. Her fingers prodded the pool gently and she gasped as rippled cascaded out from her touch in shimmering bands of light.  


A half smile cross her lips when she saw something in the water. Tilting her head, she leaned forward slightly a feeling of bemusement blossoming in her chest.  


It was a rock.  


But not an ordinary rock. It was the most beautiful rock that she had ever seen, gleaming underneath the water and she knew in her heart that it was responsible for the song and the trembles. It was a small globe shaped rock, flawless. It gleamed with the intensity of thousand bolts of lightning and with a brightness that put the sun to shame. In the center of the stone was a dark core, beautifully obsidian stems reaching out like an imperfection and yet it was perfection at the same time. "Wow…" she breathed out, and slowly reached down through the cold water. Her fingers brushed the stone, the surface of it so smooth unlike anything else she had ever felt. She curled her fingers around it, and picked it up.  


She gave a small grunt, startled by the weight of the stone. A heaviness settled across her shoulders, but she paid it no heed. Instead, she rolled the stone between her palms looking at it in undisguised awe. "So…beautiful…" she breathed out, admiring the stone with a broad smile. The stone felt pleasantly cool in her palm…then suddenly it wasn't so cool. Elizabeth's smile slipped off her face and her brows furrowed.  


No, it was not cool at all.  


It was hot. It was burning. And the burning moved from the stone into her veins, and visions burst forth across her eyes. She saw smoke so black that it blinded her, she could feel people slam into her in their haste to escape but when she turned to look at them all she saw were flickers of light as they were nothing more than ghosts. Her heart throbbed inside of her chest, and she heard the sound of children crying out for their parents. Dread coiled itself around her heart, as she found it hard to breath. It felt as if the world was coming down around and she had no way to escape. Flames of an invisible fire snaked up her arms, and she could feel her skin char and crack. A painful whimper came from her throat, as hot tears rolled down her chest. And that's when terrible beast that turned straight towards her, giving a deafening roar.  


And all Elizabeth could do was scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little picture I made of Elizabeth in front of the Hobbit Hole. Anyone can make one, just look up "Lotr and the Hobbit" character creator to find it. It's pretty neat.


	2. Far From Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth wakes up in a forest, but its not her forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nope, Hobbit is not mine. If it were than Thorin, Kili, and Fili would not die. They would live! THEY WOULD LIVE! But sadly, I don't own Hobbit. But I write this fanfic for amusement, and I hope all you will enjoy it.  
> Summary: A mistake as a child leaves Elizabeth cursed, and if she falls…so shall the Durin line.  
> Pairings: Eventual Thorin/OC, Biblo/Eleanor Woodbine  
> Verse: It will be a mixture of the book and movie, but probably will lean more towards the movie since it's the one I know most about. I've only read half of the book so far.  
> Warning: Eventual nightmares, torture, sexual themes and more

CHAPTER TWO 

"Far From Home"

She screamed and screamed until her throat was raw. The images around her grew more violent, and terrible. Fear twisted and tore through her violently, and she knew not by what strength that she managed to get to her feet. She was going to die. This is what dying felt like. She was certain of that and she scrambled backwards as the image of fierce, fire-breathing monster came lumbering towards her. Her heart was pounding painfully in her chest. The jewel in her hand melted as if nothing more than a mere illusion, and Elizabeth was too afraid of the visions around her to comprehend that it soaked deep into her skin. Or to comprehend the molten hot pain rushing through her veins as if trying to burn her from the inside out. Tears blinded her vision as she stumbled to find her way out of the cave, her flashlight abandoned somewhere on the ground. Her hands pressed against the cave walls, clinging to them to keep herself standing up and her heart felt like a humming bird's. It was beating impossibly fast, and the eight year old choked out a sob as the dark tunnel never seemed to end. 

Behind her she could feel the monster chasing after her, hot on her heels. All around her, she could still hear the screams and feel the heat from the fire snaking up her body thinking to burn the flesh right off her bones. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw vision of smoke, of people running for their lives, towers falling and she just wanted away. It was too much. Just too much, and she burst out of the cave into the light of day. Her feet hit each other sending her face first into the creek. For a minute, she floundered in the two feet of water before she got her feet on the ground. The second she did, she shot off as fast as she could through the water. Home! Was the only word the young child think through the panic swirling around her mind. Home! 

Her mommy would make this better. Her daddy would make this better. She just had to get home, but with each step she took, the pain grew tenfold. Her knees buckled, and she found herself lying face first on the ground. The taste of smoke and ash was on her tongue, causing her stomach to turn violently. She gagged, and choked. Her fingernails bit into the earth as she struggled on all fours up the hill. Her chest heaved up and down with heavy, broken gasps. _One, two, three,_ she thought inside of her head, pushing herself further and further. It was something her mother taught her to do when getting a shot. Count over and over inside your head, focus on the numbers and not the pain. _One, two, three._

It felt like eternity until she reached the top of the clearing where her shack was. Every last inch of her body felt sore, and torn like she had been pulled through a meat grinder which was a disturbing thought for an eight year old to have. She kept pushing herself forward until her limbs collapsed beneath her like limp noodles. Her face smacked against the forest floor, and her green eyes stared out. The lush green grass, and flowers that once comforted felt like they were mocking her now, and an irrational burst of anger flooded through her. Her cheeks were flushed, stained with tears and she withered in pain. 

She hissed as a strange pressure built in her right hand…the hand that she held the stone in. For a moment, she wasn't sure she had the energy to move and it took all her attention to move her palm inch by inch to her face.

Her green eyes widened and a gasp of panic tore from her lips. Her palm was glowing, in vibrant blues and pearly white with veins of black crawling up her arm. Further and further they moved up her arm and Elizabeth could only watch as they disappeared underneath her sleeve. Following the black veins was the glow and with it came the burn. A searing sensation and Elizabeth let out a noise. It was something between a groan, and a scream-a noise that sounded more like a wounded animal than a human being.

A uncomfortable and powerful pressure rising in her chest, and her fingers reached up, tugging on her collar. She looked down, panting heavily and her stomach lurched. A cry tore through her lips, as the black veins settled over her heart. The beautiful glow eclipse the black, and she held her breath. 

And then it happened, so sudden, too quick to stop. 

The burn hit her chest, and slammed down. Her heart literally stopped in her chest, and she felt her last breath slip out of lips. She felt herself die, and the world around her shattered and faded away with a bright light. If anyone had been up and looking towards the forest, they would have seen a burst of light shooting towards the sky. 

* * *

Lothlórien 

2851, Third Age

Lady Galadriel stood tall, and looked absolutely graceful in the morning light. Long tresses of hair glinted like a golden waterfall half way down her back. Her skin flawless and her face ageless. She was a beauty that could not be surpassed, but it were eyes that held the most beauty of them all. Her eyes that held so much knowledge, wisdom and history stared out across her domain. Years had passed for her, but time was meaningless for an elf. However not meaningless were the times. Dark times that Middle Earth had not foreseen in years, she feared were on the rise once more. Her fears were only increased when a hum of energy pulsed through Middle Earth. 

It felt like a birth. An arrival of something new, something that didn't belong and yet the world accepted whatever it was into its womb almost desperately. She could feel the lines of destiny creak and groan as they were shifted to accommodate this being. Galadriel's lips turned into a delicate frown, and she saw her husband Celeborn approached her. 

"What troubles you, meleth nín?" Celebron asked, his voice deep and musical like many elves were. His hand sliding into Galadriel's after she held it out for him to take. The simple gesture comforts her more than words can express and it is a joy that their love still after so many years is so strong. 

"Something has come to Middle Earth," Galadriel spoke, her voice enchanting and spellbinding. Her brows furrowed ever so lightly as she tried to sense what this thing was. "Something…not of this world…" 

Celeborn frowned, heavily. "What is it, _meleth e-guilin?_ What has come?" He asked, carefully. There was a brief moment where his wife's expression was lost as if searching for something far off in the distance, then a jolt surged through her. 

Galadriel's eyes lit up, and a gasp tore through her lips. Her head turned towards her husbands. "A child…it is a child. So lost, so far from home," Galadriel said, her hand tightening on her husband's was the only give away of her distress. "A child who is filled with wonder, and filled with such potiential to bring great joy or to bring such ruin…and…" 

"And?" Celeborn tilted his head. 

"And I fear," Galadriel said, her face solemn and her gaze heavy, "that we are not the only ones who know." The valley beneath them that was filled with such peace and silence became unnervingly quiet as a cloud of worry settled over them. "And I fear…that we will not be the first to find her…and that it will put her on such a path…such a dark path where there is little hope for light…" And with that Galadriel fell silent for the rest of the day, whatever ill her vision had seen had stolen her voice. 

* * *

_Splash…splash…splash…_

It wasn't the noise that stirred the eight year old from her dead like sleep. It was the wet and cold sensation sliding down her cheek. It was very uncomfortable, and she gave a subtle shake of her head to sent it flying off her face. Then her body settled back against her bed which seemed harder than she remembered, but she was too exhausted to care. It felt like she had ran a mile like the school required on Field Day. Stupid school, her lips dipped in a pout then she reached for her blanket and a horrible pain shot up her arm. It seemed to echo out through her entire body, and the child coughed painfully. The taste of pennies coated the back of her tongue. 

The pain was crippling as she tried to move, but honestly all she wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry. Tears had stung her eyes, and she whimpered slightly. She grinded her teeth together, taking deep breaths letting the rest of the world flitter in around her. From the light streaming from the treetops above, the ground beneath her cold and hard. She blinked rapidly, and the blurriness faded and a cold pit of dread make her forget all about her pain. She pushed herself up using all of her strength, and looked down at her body. She was horrified at what she saw. Her skin from head to toe was covered in bruises and whelps like she had been beaten. Her heart stuttered in her chest, and she felt very dizzy. Blinking her sore eyes, she looked around with careful slow movements. 

_How long…have I been…?_ Her thought was unfinished as a cold stone of dread dropped into the pit of her stomach. The forest…the forest wasn't right. Not right at all. It was several things that made the icy fear settle in her heart. The lack of leaves on the trees, the ground was hard and cold covered in a faint dusting of snow. A light mixture of ice and rain was falling from the sky, soaking her clothes and Elizabeth's stomach churned. That wasn't possible. It had been spring time when she had passed out. Or died, it felt like she had died. She remembered her heartbeat coming to a complete stop… 

A sob ripped through her and she unconsciously flexed her right wrist. She looked around, and saw she had her bow and quiver still on her. Her bag that had her lunch and books and other things was also still secured to her back. She turned and stared stunned at her sanctuary, her shack she had built on the ground in shambles. The great oak tree that had been helping holding it up, mysteriously gone. Elizabeth was an observant child, with a keen eye. All who met her said so, and she liked to believe it, especially when it came to the forest. And Elizabeth knew by turning around in a circle, her eyes shooting all over and it hit her hard. 

This was not her forest. 

Her heart shriveled in her chest, and a new wave of tears burned her eyes. "Mom? Dad?" She whispered, as if calling out to them would make them magically appear. Elizabeth felt her stomach churn with guilt and fear, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach. Scalding hot tears rolled down her chest, and she buried her face into her knees. She cried for so long. She cried until she was nothing, but a shivering mess thanks to the chilling cold storm. The need for warmth had trumped her fears in that moment, and with great effort she stood up. Her knees wobbled and knocked together like a foal walking for the first time. Every muscle pulsed with pain, and her breaths sounded rough like her great Aunt Myrtle who had been a smoker all her life. 

What was she to do? She could try to rebuild her shack, but she didn't have the time in this kind of weather. She could feel the storm getting worse. Walking over, she knelt down and started cleaning the metal away. She rolled up her sleeping bag and grabbed her lantern that she had kept in the shack for her lazy days. A part of her cringed at having to leave all her books behind to get wet and warped, but she did not have the strength nor the room to carry them. Her breaths evened out and she stared numbly out at the forest. She licked her lips, and the eight year old tried glanced at the forest trying to picture her forest and which way was home. She wanted to find her compass in the mess, but it would take too long and her skin prickled painfully in reminder that she needed to get warm. Time was something she couldn't spare, and if…if by chance that home was over that clean hill-that certainly wasn't Trash Hill-then she had to take it. 

Wiping the tears away from her face angrily, and straightened her spine. She was a warrior! A knight! She was a fighter! Warriors did not cry for their parents when the road got tough. They…they…they got things done. Her footsteps were sloppy and slow as she trekked through the forest. Her tiny arms shook, holding her things tightly to her. Her teeth chattered together, and her body shivered uncontrollably. She had not dressed for winter, but spring. Each second was like ages passing by, and the only good thing was that eventually she became so numb that she could no longer feel the scorching pain in her limbs. In fact, she really couldn't feel them at all. 

The trees thinned out, and Elizabeth could see a clearing in the distances. Hope filled her heart, and she lengthened her sides. She shoved through the bushes, and out into the open looking for the familiar sight of her house. But it wasn't there. Nothing was. She stared aghast out at the open fields, and plains. Her heart plummeting into her stomach and settled there in a heavy weight. Her home was not here. Her fingernails dug into her sides, and she drew in a hysterical breath. Where was home? How far away from it was she? Was mommy and daddy looking for her? Was anyone looking for her? She sniffled, but rubbed her eyes stubbornly reminding herself that adventurers did not cry. Biting the inside of her cheek, she made her way forward because she had come too far to go back now. 

The grass was brown and wilted and would have crunched underneath her feet if the ground hadn't become sobbing wet. She moved her fingers anxiously, she remembered that it was important to keep moving when cold. Her move was certainly trying to her, the muscles are jumping and jerking beneath her skin with a mind of their own. She drew in a icy breath, trying to peer through the sheet of ice and rain pouring down. It took a moment, but she could make out a shape in the distance that distinctly looked like a building off some sort. 

Narrowing her eyes, a cabin came slowly into focus. It was not old, but it looked worn with the front porch busted up like something had taken a sledgehammer to it. But it had four walls and roof, so what more could she ask for? Elizabeth ran towards the cabin, moving faster than she had in the last hour or so. The porch creaked beneath her feet, and she walked up to the door. It looked quite intimidating, the wood had been turned grey by weather, and there appeared to be claw marks along the bottom edge. 

That gave her pause, but then a chilling wind ripped right through her made her leap towards the door. She reached for the handle before pausing. _What if someone lived here?_ The eight year old thought, eyes widening. It seemed unlikely, but someone could she supposed. Wringing her hands together, she pursed her lips together and her brows knitted as she stared at the door worriedly. With a sigh, she raised her fist and pounded on the door. She waited a moment, but no sound came from within. She called out, "Hello! Hello! Can you help me? Please?" She stood there, her ear pressed against the door desperate to hear some kind of shout back. Nothing came, and Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip nervously. Oh, she should have never left home. Her father had been right. Adventures brought nothing but trouble. Indecision filled her, after all, her parents always told her not to talk to strangers. And she was seriously considering going into a stranger's home. 

They could be some creepy old guy, or an angry cat lady. Or what if the person who lived here was one of those cereal killers? Cereal killers were the worst! Seriously who goes into peoples house and stomps on their cereal boxes? That is why Elizabeth always hid her honeycomb. The eight year old sighed, and thought, Well, I don't have any cereal on me and maybe it'll be a nice old lady's house. Maybe they can help me find my family. With that thought, she twisted the door handle and pushed the door in. It creaked just ominously as the porch did and she swallowed thickly before taking a step in. 

The house was quiet, and empty. The whole cabin appeared to be made of entirely one room. A cot shoved into the corner, a broken table beside the single broken window and a poorly crafted fireplace. It wasn't much, but Elizabeth already felt warmer with the four walls surrounding her. Shutting the door carefully behind her, she rubbed her nose that was getting a tickle from all the dust floating in the air. "Okay…" the young girl spoke to herself to break the uneasy silence. "What do I do now?" 

She thought about what her dad would do. Charlie Morgan was your typical Kentucky male. A farmer, crafter and hunter. He prided himself on working with his hands, and taught all his child a little bit of everything. He said for one day they might need it. Well, Elizabeth certainly needed it now, but she only knew a little. Less than all of her siblings. 

_Start a fire._ The answer came to her. She was cold. She needed heat, and even though daddy said never to play with fire, she thought he would understand in this case. Going over all the things she was going to need, Elizabeth knew she was going to have to improvise. Breaking down the already broken table further with kicks and jumps, she gathered the pieces and brought them to the fireplace. She was going to need something like paper to catch the rest of it on fire. She sat down her sleeping bag, bow and arrows the unzipped her bag. She shifted through it all, before she found the perfect thing to help start a fire. 

Her math textbook. 

A mischievous grin slipped across her lips as she pulled it out. She tore the pages out of the book with more glee and enthusiasm than was warranted, but dealing with an evil megalomaniac of a math teacher for the good part of the year, Elizabeth couldn't find it in her to feel guilty. She crumbled the pieces up and placed them underneath the broken wood. Her hand slid back into her bag, and she pulled out her box of matches. She winced slightly because when her dad found she had matches, Elizabeth will not be able to sit properly for a month. She opened it up, and let out a groan. Her matches were soaked. They were useless until they dried out. Her spirit crumbled a little bit, and she could once again feel the need to weep. 

She could hear her brother's voice taunting her in the back of her head. _Crybaby! Crybaby! Gonna cry, crybaby?_ Elizabeth felt her teeth grit together, anger spark some warmth inside of her. "I…am…not…a crybaby!" She growled out. Her daddy and momma had raised no fool, and she could survive until her parent's found her. She knew she could. She pulled out everything from her bag, to her Power Rangers lunchbox. She wouldn't starve tonight as she fished out her sandwich, and canteen. She would save her bag of peppered beef jerky because there was no sense in wasting it and it would keep long than her sandwich would. Her books which consisted of Tom Swayer, Sleeping Beauty, and an old Edgar Allen Poe poetry book that her nana had left to her. Her extra pair of short and shirt because adventures tend to get messy, like falling in the mud messy and her mother did not appreciate that at all especially when Elizabeth tracked it into the house. That's when she felt something cold and hard in the bottom of the bag. Her arrowheads! She pulled them out, and admired them. It was on of her favorite pass times to run through the fields and collect them. Something stirred in the back of her mind, and she recalled something her father said about flint. Flint…could make fires, right? Something about hitting it against…metal? Elizabeth frowned hard, trying to figure out what metal she had to strike against it. She didn't have a pocket knife, her mom said she was too young for that. Of course, Elizabeth sassed saying they let her have arrows so how was that any…her eyes widened, as inspiration hit. 

She grabbed her quiver and pulled out an arrow. The steel tip glinted even in the fading light. They weren't sharp like real arrows, but it was steel and would serve her purpose. She pulled the arrow tip off the arrow so she could grip it better. "Let's see if this works," she whispered to herself, and took one of the bigger arrowheads out of her bag. She posed her two hands close together, and then the arrow tip and arrowhead together. A light clang echoed through the shack, and her shoulders slumped when nothing happened. Maybe she wasn't doing it hard enough. Raising her hands to try again because she really didn't want to resort to rubbing sticks together, she took a deep breath letting all her frustration and fear flood into her then she brought the flint together with a harsh crack. A strangled gasp flew past her lips when the tiny sparks shot into the air, then followed by a broad grin. Kneeling down closer to the paper, she slammed the arrow tip against the flint and the sparks showered down. It took two more times before the sparks fell on the paper just right for it to ignite. 

Elizabeth blew gently on the growing flame to encourage it on, and she watched mesmerized as the flame eagerly licked a path to the broken wood. Within minutes, warm started to spread through the cabin. She held her hands near the flame and the warmth brought life back into them. But Elizabeth knew that she would have to tend to the fire to keep it alive which would be no great trouble for her, she had helped her father with the woodstove in their home all the time. The only problem here was the lack of wood. _If there was a fireplace surely they would have firewood,_ she reasoned, with a thoughtful expression. The thought of going outside again wasn't a nice one. But what good would it do to start this fire only for it to die out all too soon. Rubbing her arms instinctively, she rose onto her shaky legs. The only thought that kept her going on was that after she got the wood, she got sit down eat and then fall into a peaceful slumber. So out of the door she went into the blistering cold wind, and she wished never more for a coat. It would have been very nice right now. She always loved the cold, snowy season, but now she despised it. 

_It's supposed to be Spring!_ She thought childishly as she trudged around the cabin. Her body shook, and her teeth chattered together loudly. When she got home she was sleeping by the wood stove because she never, ever wanted to this cold again. She reached the back of the cabin and she could have cried at the stack of firewood she saw. Relief so profound ripped through threatening to send to her knees. Only the thought of getting more wet and dirty kept her from falling down. She stumbled towards the wood, and picked up a couple of logs before heading back around to the front of the cabin. Not knowing how much she would need, Elizabeth made a couple of more trips. 

Balancing the three small logs in her arms, she turned when a howl cut through the evening. Elizabeth felt the hair on the back on her neck rise. Her heart jolted in her chest, and she looked around the grassy hill in fear. _What was that? Was it a coyote?_ It had to be a coyote, even though deep in her heart she thought that howl was more monstrous than any coyote she had ever heard before. But it had to be coyotes. She knew that there were coyotes around these parts, but her dad always told her that they were more scared of people so they would never get close to the house. But she wasn't at the house…she was alone. Swallowing thickly, she picked up as many pieces of wood as she could and headed back to the cabin. She ran as fast as she could, urged on by the images of phantom coyotes not far behind. She shoved through the cabin door, and closed it behind her with a deep rough breath. 

Exhausted she dropped the wood down beside the fireplace. She hoped that the wood wasn't too soaked yet if not she might be freezing soon. Another howl came from outside and Elizabeth shuddered. On instinct she clumsily walked over to the cot, and started pulling it from the wall. A strained grunt grated through her throat, as she pushed the cot in front of the doorway. The claw marks on the door ever present in her mind. Taking the blankets off the cot, she hung one over the broken window in an attempt to keep the wind out. Elizabeth took on last long look around the cabin before finally flinging off her cold shoes, and pulled off her wet socks. She wiggled her toes that were froze, and counted them to make sure they were all still there. She pulled off her wet clothes, and put on her dry ones. A content sigh fell from her lips, as she set them all near the fire so they'd be dry in the morning. 

She curled into her plushy sleeping bag that was a little damp, but had been made warm by the fire, and brought her lunchbox towards her. She settled for eating half of her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She took a few sips of water out of her canteen before closing the lid. After that she laid back, and as soon as she closed her eyes, she was asleep. And she did not hear the howls outside that drew ever near.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvish Translations  
> 1.) meleth nín-my love  
> 2.) meleth e-Guilin-love of my life  
> Can someone point me to a website that has translations for the dwarves language? I can't find anything and I really want to make this as accurate as possible.  
> Also there will be a time jump to the start of the hobbit next chapter. I toyed with idea of showing all what Elizabeth will go through from here to there, but I will use flashbacks to fill it throughout the story. Eventually I will write a prequel that will go further into detail at a later date.  
> Rrs are appreciated, and always answered whether guest or registered. :D


	3. Of Monsters, Elves, and Meddlesome Wizards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth finds out that monsters are all too real...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nope, Hobbit is not mine. If it were than Thorin, Kili, and Fili would not die. They would live! THEY WOULD LIVE! But sadly, I don't own Hobbit. But I write this fanfic for amusement, and I hope all you will enjoy it.  
> Summary: A mistake as a child leaves Elizabeth cursed, and if she falls…so shall the Durin line.  
> Pairings: Eventual Thorin/OC, Biblo/? (I am open to suggestions on Bilbo's pairing since I haven't anything in mind yet.)  
> Verse: It will be a mixture of the book and movie, but probably will lean more towards the movie since it's the one I know most about. I've only read half of the book so far.  
> Warning: Eventual nightmares, torture, sexual themes and more
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos!
> 
> "Regular Talking"  
> 'Thought will be set up like this.'  
> "Elvish words and translation will be in italic." I've tried to use as much elvish from reliable sights as I could to get an authentic feel. Some things I don't have elvish for, but they will still be in italics so consider it elvish."

THREE

"Of Monsters, Elves, and Meddlesome Wizards"

Three days had come and gone. 

No one had come for her. No dad, no mom, and her heart hurt. It felt like it was being torn and twisted and broken into tiny little pieces. All the hope had been drained out of her as the hours ticked by, and no one came. She took a tiny sip from her canteen. It didn't quench her thirst, but she couldn't waste it. She had went back to the clearing and had gathered up her things and brought them back to cabin. Using one of her markers that she used for her coloring books (which were mush now and that made her mad because she worked really hard on them) and wrote on a piece off wood: _Up the hill, in a cabin. -Elizabeth._

But that had been two days ago, and still no one had came. 

Her eyes were red rimmed from the tears she had cried after waking from a dream about being home, and she rubbed her cheeks clean. The under sides of her eyes were bruised from the lack of sleep, the unfamiliar silence with a loud howl ever now and then had made her jolt awake constantly. Her stomach growled with a vengeance, but she didn't dare eat her last scraps of food. If she didn't manage to find some berries, or something it would be all that she had left. She had to get out of here, she had to do something. Waiting…waiting was no good. 

_Her parents hadn't come._

Maybe they were out in the woods, searching for her. She licked her chapped lips, hope rising in her heart. Maybe she should go out there and search for them. Fear had kept her from going out so far, but she had little choice now. She had to find her parents, or find food. She reached out, picking up her father's pocket watch and flipped it open. It was two in the afternoon which meant she had a few hours of daylight to spare. Chewing on her bottom lip, she glanced at the door before her shoulders slumped resigned. She carefully hid her stuff away underneath some loose floorboards, and at the very top she laid the golden pocket watch. Carefully, she shifted the floorboards back into place and rose to her feet shakily. Clutching her stomach, the eight year old rose from the ground and stumbled out of the cabin. Today was slightly warmer than yesterday, the sun shining down from the down from the sky. The snow and ice had nearly melted away, but the wind was still enough cold enough to cut right through her. She shivered, and huddled in on herself as she started across the field. 

_One foot in front of the other, and repeat._ She thought to herself, the dead grass crunching beneath the soles of her shoes. The wind nipped at her cheeks and nose turning them red while she reached into her pocket pulling out her compass. The glass had been cracked, but the dial still seemed to work. Hopefully, she thought, she would be able to find her way back to the cabin without too much trouble. She tapped at her temple that ached, and grimaced at the sight of yellowing bruises. She looked horrible, and when she got home she had a feeling her father was going to lock her in some tower declaring that she was never going outside again. The thought made her giggle lightly. 

Elizabeth paused briefly at the edge of the forest, peering into its depths and a sudden wariness flooded through her. It was dark, even during the day for the tree were tall. Taller than any trees she had ever seen before and though they had no leaves, the thick branches were thick and overlap those of the neighboring trees effectively blocking most of the sunlight attempting to pour through. And there was no noise. Not a sound, just a silence so deep that if it were not for the noisy breaths rattling through her she would have thought she had gone deaf. It looked like the kind of forest that monsters would live in. 

But monsters weren't real, daddy had told her so when he showed her the monster under her bed had been nothing but her green sweater so she had no reason to be afraid. With that comforting though, she moved forward into the forest. It was cooler underneath the shade of the trees, luckily though only the howl of the wind seemed to reach the forest and not the chill. A tiny sigh of relief went through her as she carefully made her way down the hill by using a large tree root that sloped downward like a rap. She held onto the tree trunk for balance while her eyes flickered around hoping to catching a glimpse of her parents or siblings or someone. Unfortunately, all she saw were trees and shadows. Nervously, she played with her compass and finally she called out, "Mommy! Daddy!" She halted, and strained to hear for any shouts back. A hollow silence was her only reply, and it caused her stomach to twist into knots. Swallowing thickly, she blinked her eyes rapidly to keep the forming tears at bay. "Maggie! Christine!" She called for her older sisters. "Lisa!" 

Again, silence was her only reply. 

"Bradley!" She even called for her troll of a brother, but no shout came back. Just the never ending silence. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest, and a part of started to believe they were never going to find her. An overcast billowed above stealing the faint glimmer of light in the forest, and the temperature around her began to plummet dramatically. The icing on the cake was the clap of thunder, and the staccato of rain came from the tree tops. Elizabeth groaned, she now understood why adults cursed so much. 

She needed to head back. There was little use in looking for them now, or for berries. She had past many blackberry bushes, but alas due to the season there were none. It had been stupid of her to hope otherwise, and her hope dwindled down into nothing. She sniffled, and wiped her eyes off on the back of her sleeve. A breath shudder through her, and disheartened her shoulders slumped in defeat when suddenly there was a great howl echoing through the trees. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she froze in place her eyes darting around wildly. _Oh…oh, no,_ she thought a split second before she broke on into a sprint. Her muscles pulled and strained as she ran as fast as her short legs would take her. Her pulse thumped in her throat, and fear spiked in her veins like jolts of lightning, and she heard the blood rushing past her ears. She had to get to the cabin, it was the only safe place she had. She could hide inside until the coyotes went away. Snarls and growls echoed from the shadows of the forest, from the parts that she could not see. That she did not want to see. 

She leapt over tree roots, ripping her arms free of the branches that seemed to reach out and grab her. She shoved her way through a couple of bushes and she gave a cry of surprise because when she jerked free, her foot got snagged on a root. She fell and rolled down the hillside. Her body slammed, over and over against the ground and her fingernails bit down into the ground trying to keep a hold of something, but nothing worked. She kept sliding until she flopped face first into a nasty mud puddle. _Lovely,_ she gagged as nasty, muddy water filled her mouth. Her head throbbed from where it has smashed against a rock, and she groaned pitifully. For several seconds, she couldn't summon up the energy to get up. _What was the use?_ She thought miserably. She didn't know what alerted her that was something was wrong first. The hair on the nape of her neck rose warningly, or alarm went off inside her head but she knew she was in trouble when she heard a low, deep growl. Slowly, she pushed herself up onto all fours when she froze at the sight of great white paws not even ten feet away from. Elizabeth held her breath, and felt her entire body began to tremble. 

_Don't look up,_ her mind shouted. _Don't look at it._ If she didn't look at it then that mean that is wouldn't be real. But even as she thought this, her eyes started upward against her will. Slowly they inched up taking in the white beast. It was fearsome thing straight out of nightmares looking like a cross between a wolf and hyena. And if it weren't enough, upon the white beast sat a rider who was even more monstrous. 

It wasn't human. There was no way it was human, with it's bleach white leathery skin that had red crisscross scars all over him. Ears that were pointed, and a pair of evil amber eyes that stared down malevolently at her from his stead. It cocked its head to the side studying her before saying something in a horrid and brutish language that sent shivers of fear spiraling down through her. Its voice was deep and terrible as its form. 

Elizabeth trembled, literally paralyzed in fear and all she could was watch as the monster lumbered closer and closer. Her heartbeat roared in her heart like thunder as a scream built up in her throat, climbing high and high. Her mouth parted to release it, but she never got the chance. Something slammed down against the back of her head, and the world went black. 

* * *

2 Years Later

The forest was filled with unease and unrest. 

Whether this brought by the orcs and wargs, or phantom that villages spoke of in hushed voices and tones as if afraid it would appear by its mere mention, was not known. However, the unrest had spread up towards the river Bruinen that bordered Imladris and that was cause for worry. Two horses, one white and one copper, with riders cantered through the forest warily. The first rider was young and fair, but his eyes were ageless. His hair shined brighter than any gold and he sat tall and straight astride the white stead, draped in armor that shined like liquid silver in the moonlight. His beauty and pointed ears clearly showing that this was no mere mortal man, but one of the Eldar. An elf by the name of Glorfindel. _"There is a foul stench in the air,"_ he spoke, his musical voice holding grave undertones. _"We should proceed with caution, Elrond."_

Elrond was the polar opposite of the first, his long hair dark as night and though his face was ageless there was a heavy wisdom that sat upon his brow. His dark eyes held a knowing, and countless number of years. He adorned in an armor of crimson and silver, and two sword at either side of his waist. He, too, was of the Eldar and was one of the longest lived elves still upon Middle Earth. His eyebrows furrowed as he raked a keen and piercing stare through the forest. _"Agreed,"_ he murmured, for he too could feel and smell the stench of rot and decay tainting the forest. _"No dirweg." Be watchful._

_"Aren't I always?"_ Glorfindel drawled, with a smirk turning up the edges of his lips ever so slightly. 

The sky was clear and dark, with the faintest traces of daylight peeking over the horizon. The tree tops were thick, and green letting little starlight flitter down. The two treaded onward, ever wary. The forest held many shadows, and not all of them were the ones cast by the trees. Several minutes went by without incident, and just as Elrond was about to suggest the return to the rest of the patrol Asfaloth suddenly reared back violently. 

Glorfindel let out a slight yelp (one that would Erestor would tease him mercilessly about for years to come), tightening his hold on his reins in order not to go flying off. His eyes were wide, visibly startled by his stead reactions. Elrond's brows furrowed as his own stead, Nahar, shifted restlessly. His eyes scanned the area for some sign of what startled the animals when he saw a dip in the forest floor. He tugged on the horse's reigns and ventured closer. Glorfindel trailing after him, after calming Asfaloth. The closer he got to it, the more Elrond realized that it was not a dip at all. It was a pit, and the stench of rot became stronger the closer he got. 

_"By Eru,"_ Glorfindel's musically voice sounded strangled with shock as they came to a halt at the edge of the pit. _"Someone has been setting traps for the orcs."_

_"It indeed seems that way,"_ Elrond murmured, staring down at the body of an orc and warg who had fallen into the pit only to be impaled by tree limbs that had been sharpened into fine, deadly points. One could assume that this was the trap set up by a hunter, but Elrond studied the pit a little closer. The edges of the pit were jagged and uneven, dug in a hurry. This wasn't the work of a hunter. This was the work of someone desperate. _"Tread carefully. There may be more traps,"_ Elrond warned, lightly. The wind changed direction and swept toward the elves, causing both of them to stiffen. The horses snorted with alarm and tossed their heads. 

_"We should leave our horses,"_ Glorfindel suggested. _"They are clearly unsettled. It would not do well if they were to buck one of us off."_

_"True,"_ Elrond conceded. Then with a smirk, he added, _"Or perhaps you're afraid you'll scream again."_

Glorfindel shot him a glare, and Elrond just looked at him with serene, composed expression. The blond elf muttered something under his breath about 'this is where the twins get it' before in one graceful movement, he dropped down from his stead. Elrond slid off of Nahar, his feet hitting the forest floor silently. Whispering to his stead to not wander far, Elrond glanced over at Glorfindel. 

Elrond shot a wary glance around the forest before crouching down to make his way silently forward. His eyes narrowed into slits, seeing farther than any human could. He saw many things: a deer grazing a mile away, lighting bugs flying down preparing to sleep for a day and-his head jerked when he saw a shadow run through the trees about a quarter mile ahead. _"Nad no ennas,"_ Elrond whispered out, warningly. _Something is out there._

_"Man cenich?"_ Glorfindel halted in step, glancing over at the dark haired elf who eyes narrowed at something in the distance. _What do you see?_

_"Shadows and movement,"_ Elrond replied. _"Though I cannot say of what."_

The two moved forward, stealthily using the trees and shadows to stay out of sight. They were growing closer to the shadows and movement when a familiar howl cut through the night followed by a shout. 

_"Orcs,"_ Elrond breathed out. The shadow that Elrond had been following with his eyes was racing closer to them, and Elrond tensed preparing to draw his blade if necessary. Glorfindel had a throwing knife already in his palm, his blue eyes staring steadily forward waiting to strike. 

Closer and closer the shadow came, and a warg's howl was not far behind. Twigs snapped, the rustle of leaves and the shadow burst forth from the tree line. Elrond jerked in surprise and shock, his heart skipping a beat in his chest for the shadow was not that of an orc like had been expected. It was a child! A young girl no older than ten annuals, dressed in dark brown rags that hung off her tiny, waif like frame. Bruises and cuts lined up and down her arms, and her face was hidden within the shadows of her natty, tangled hair. The child trembled, her head snapping from left to right, clearly searching for a way out. 

And more startlingly than her appearance was the black, wet substance splattered upon her clothes. It was orc blood. _Fresh orc blood,_ Elrond's eyes flickered to the tip of the small dagger held tightly in her right hand while her left hand was curled into her chest protectively. It too was stained with orc blood. The sudden realization crashed through his like ice through his veins. This girl was the one whom set up the traps. 

Fear and desperation was present in ever breath she took, and a silent scream fell from her lips when an orc smashed through the trees right after her. She whirled around, and stumbled backwards as the orc gave her a dark, toothy smile that promised all sorts of horrible things. He stepped forth, a whip in his hand and a warg flanking his side. "Now, now, come here, poppet," the orc gestured for the girl to come to him. 

She shook her head back and forth rapidly, and held up her knife as her last line of defense. The orc began to approach, enjoying the child's helplessness and he cracked the whip. The end slashed through the air, and the girl cried out throwing herself backwards to avoid being hit. The warg snarled, and leapt forward intent on devouring its prize. 

With a burst of speed, Elrond leapt forward drawing out his blade and slammed it straight into the side of the warg sending them both to the ground. The warg let out one last snarl before going limp on the ground, and in one smooth motion, Elrond had rolled to his feet. Black blood splattered to the ground as Glorfindel wielding his blade with a lethal precision felling the orc before he could even let out a shout. 

The orc's body fell to the ground with a thud, and hush fell over the forest. For several seconds the only sound was the harsh breathing of the child who still laid on her back on the forest floor. She stared at the two elves with wide eyes, and her lips parted in surprise. She pulled herself into a sitting position, looking like a frightened deer about to bolt. 

"Easy, child," Elrond replied, soothingly in Weston. The little girl froze, not daring to draw a breath as her eyes wide as she stared at him unblinking, in fear. She was thin, too thin, the rags that she wore as clothes were hanging off of her. Her skin was held a sickly pale tint to it, and her brown hair was matted and tangled with more than a few leaves sticking in it. His dark eyes raked over her, and it was not hard to tell that this child had been hurt and badly. "I will not hurt you." 

A shaky breath rattled through the girl's tiny body, and her jaw shook while a broken look shot through her gaze as she shook her head back and forth slightly. A look of someone too afraid to hope, and it struck Elrond on several levels. No child should ever have suffered as this one had. "Can you speak?" He asked, gently. He knelt down on one knee where he was almost on level with her to appear less imposing, and he held out his hands in front of him palms straight up in an effort to show her that he meant no ill will. 

The little girl bit her lip, and slowly pushed herself into a sitting position against the tree. She curled her legs towards her chest, and put a little bit more distance between herself and Elrond. Her eyes stared at him from underneath the mess of hair, like an animal waiting for the predator to strike and Elrond frowned when he noticed a dark onyx stemming out from the center of her green eyes. It was strange, and unnatural, but before he had time to ponder it further the girl spoke. Her voice was rough and hoarse, and her words were strange. 

Elrond's brow furrowed, for the words weren't of any language he knew. The syllables were similar to Weston, Elrond noted with a light frown. However, the meaning behind the words were clear. She did not understand them. He looked over at Glorfindel, who too looked puzzled. Elrond reached out, and the girl flinched back. Her pulse jumped in her throat, and her breaths quickened. _"Careful,"_ Glorfindel whispered, softly. 

_"I always am,"_ Elrond retorted, lightly. He had to be cautious. The child had clearly been through a lot, and could easily lash out. If she did that, she would only end up hurting herself more and Elrond shuddered at the thought of what she had already endured. He continued to inch forward, and the girl just stared at him frightened. 

She said a word, it was a plea. Her chin wobbled, and tears filled her eyes. Elrond's heart broke for the young one, but he kept inching closer at a snail's pace. The girl kept repeating the word over and over again, shaking her head and clenched her eyes closed, curling in on herself. Sobs wracked her tiny frame, as Elrond could feel the fear coming off of her in waves. He regretted putting her into such distress, but her wounds needed tending too. And no just the physical ones. When his hand came to rest on her shoulder, Elrond almost jolted backwards. His dark eyes widening in shock, and his lips parted in surprise. The girl's soul had markings on it. One dark, cold like an unforgiving stone twisting and burning through her spirit threatening to hollow her out from within. The other was the exact opposite. It was a warmth, a breath of life and a strength that could only be outshined by the everlasting mountains. He did not understand the marks upon the child's essence meant, or what would become of them but they were troubling. The girl hiccupped, her cheeks stained with tears as she pressed herself into the tree trying to become one with it to get away from Elrond. 

Elrond looked down at her mournfully, his heart strings tugged. _"Shhh, child, all will be well. You'll see,"_ he promised, slowly placing his hands on each side of her temples and pressing down with his thumb. Instantly, he was hit by a swarm of emotion-fear, pain, hope, longing all twisted within a horrible image of fire and ash before the child went limp out cold. He released a long breath, and a shudder rippled down his spine. This child…had been through terrible things, and it seemed that fate was not quite finished just yet. _"All will be well,"_ he repeated his promise as he lifted the child into his arms with ease. _"All will be well."_

He certainly hoped so. 

* * *

90 years later

_Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock._

The pocket watch in her breast pocket felt heavy, like a constant weight tugging at her trying to pull her down. She walked through the streets of Bree, the moonlight guiding her path. The stench from the wet streets made her mourn the lack of plumbing. Some cities, larger ones had plumbing. Elves and hobbits certainly had better plumbing than the cities of men by far, and known for their inventions, she supposed the dwarves too would have such luxuries within their cities. But even as she bemoaned the lack of sanitation, it did not change the fact that Bree was by no means a large city and the closest it came to plumbing were chamber pots. Her nose wrinkled in distaste knowing that said pots would have been dumped out only hours before her arrival, and if she could have avoided walking the streets she most certainly would have. Sadly, she had no such option and pinched the bridge of her nose. If only she could travel by day, perhaps then she smell wouldn't have been so bad. 

She shook her head, freeing herself from such thoughts. Her sensitives to smells were trivial in the grand scheme of things, so she pressed forward. She passed by the blacksmith shop, and felt an angry pinch in the pit of her stomach. She recalled how the man laughed in her face when she approached him and inquired about the use of his forge. Her memories of her childhood were fleeting and blurred, like an old faded film. Each day that passed they slipped further and further out of her reach. So she tried desperately to keep some part of her past alive within her, and working with her hands always reminded her of her father. His entire life he work with his hands; out in the fields as a farm hand, to carved out pieces of wood into statues of animals or anything that caught his fancy. He liked learning new things to build and craft, even building a mini forge out in the backyard to try his hand at metalwork. _"We were giving two hands for a reason, peanut,"_ his voice a faint whisper in the back of her skull, and she could vaguely remember his warm smile. _"To build, to create, and to make the world around us better."_

It wasn't just her father's memory that she kept alive the best she could. Her sister so full of sound and music, she remembered their dream of being musical artists. Hardly a day would pass that the house wouldn't be filled with some kind of instrument or lyrics echoing through the walls. She would draw or paint because her mother had been a painter, running her own gallery, and her brother had drew little comics. In her heart, she knew one day he'd make comic books like the ones he had been so fond of. Her hands itched to mold and create, to harness the linger anxiety from her recent brush with death. A stray and starving wolf that had been intent on making her it's meal. The blacksmith, like most born to the Race of Man, only thought use a woman had was what was between her legs, whether that meant making babies or otherwise. Elves did not hold such notions about gender, though there was most certainly a hierarchy structure to their society. Hobbits were better than men, but still very far from equality between men and women. She only read about dwarves from the few books on them, and from what she had read they did hold their women in high regard. Still, it was a man's world that she navigated in and for an adventuring woman that labeled her as an outcast and outsider.

One day, perhaps the world's viewpoint would change. Such as it was, she had not the means to change it herself. So she bit back her tongue and resisted the impulse to throttle the blacksmith and his unkind words. _Pick your battles,_ her mother always said. Or had it been her father? Whichever of her parents it might have been the notion stayed with her. Dealing with stupid people was a pointless battle, it was like arguing with a table and expecting the table to talk back which was impossible. Unless there was a wizard involved. Could wizards make tables talk? Next time, she ran into one she would have to remember to ask. With a simple nod to the inn keeper, she walked up the creaky stairs to her room and as soon as the door closed behind her, she flopped face first into her bed. Rolling her tense shoulders, she let out a long sigh and her eyes slid closed ready to fall straight into a dreamless sleep when a strange smell tickled her nose. A smoke, but with a sweet and sharp smell to it. _Old Toby!_ She thought, her body tensing and she slowly craning her neck, so one eye peeked out from the long curtain of her hair. There sitting on chair facing the fireplace, calmly puffing on a pipe draped from head to toe in grey with a pointy hat to top it off was none other than Gandalf the Grey watching her with a merry twinkle in his eye. She laid there for a long moment, staring at him with one wide eye before she bounced off the bed and headed towards the door. "No, no, no, no," she shook her head back and forth. 

Gandalf heaved a sigh. "Elizabeth." 

"No." Elizabeth Morgan looked like a young woman of about twenty and five years old which was an a lie. She was much, much older than her appearance gave away. Elizabeth's porcelain skin gleaming like snow, and it made the dark circles underneath her eyes stand out even more. Her eyes were a vivid cobalt that seemed to glow with some inner light with obsidian stems shooting out from the pupils all the way to the edge of the iris. They were unnatural and inhuman and even she shuddered when catching sight of them. "No. I will not be going on an adventure with you." 

"Elizabeth Morgan…" 

"Don't Elizabeth Morgan me," Elizabeth looked at him, affronted. That last time she had given into one of his hair brained schemes she had ended up the size of a match, and inside of Erestor's pocket until the spell had worn off. Needless to say, she hadn't traveled with Gandalf since. Orc and wargs she could deal with, beings almost squashed by being sat on by an elf was not. 

"Just hear me out, hmm?" Gandalf quirked up an eyebrow, while pulling something out of his bag. "I brought you an offering of peace," he said, sitting the pomegranate down on the table. Elizabeth stared at it with wide eyes. It was a rarity to find a pomegranate in these parts, along with oranges and bananas. They were quite the luxury and very hard to get unless you liked traveling great distances. Gandalf was such a person, and damn him, he knew Elizabeth had a weakness for pomegranates. She gave him a grudging look while raising a speculative eyebrow. Gandalf looked decidedly wary, and there was a grimness about him that his genial smile couldn't quite dispel. "Alright," she agreed, a tad concern. "I'll hear you out, but I promise nothing." 

Taking the other chair, she took the pomegranate and peeled it open. She offered the wizard half of it, but Gandalf shook his head lightly. Pick a couple of seeds and tossing them into her mouth savoring the tart flavor, she asked, "What do you need of me, Gandalf?" Gandalf let out a low hum, shifting to get more comfortable in his chair and let out a puff of smoke. "There is a quest. It is dangerous, and most believe it to be impossible to accomplish," the wizard began, somberly. 

"Isn't that what they say about all quest?" Elizabeth's lips quirked up into a half smile. Gandalf snorted lightly. "True, true. But this quest is one of grave importance and I believe could shape the very future of Middle Earth with its outcome," the wizard said, exhaling a smoke ring that twisted in midair and became eagle that soared straight into the flickering flames. He always did love to be very dramatic, Elizabeth repressed a snort. "I also believe…that it might have the answers that you seek." 

That made Elizabeth pause. "You mean…" Her voice hesitated, and her blue eyes peered up at him in something akin to shock. "You mean about the curse?" Her arrival to Middle Earth had been under mysterious circumstances, ones that were never fully explained to her. The elves called her 'chosen', Gandalf called her 'cursed'. She wasn't certain she wanted to be called either of those things. She always had a nagging feeling that Gandalf had always known more than he let on, but he held it back. Whether out of fear for her, or because of her, she was not for certain. 

Gandalf gave a small nod. 

For as long as she had been in Middle Earth, she had been plagued with dreams of fire and death. Some dreams she was an observer, helpless to stop the chaos around. Some dreams she was being hunted, chased down by the creature born of flames intent on burning her alive or worse. Other times, she was one of the people in the street running for their life-a mother desperately trying to shield her child, a daughter screaming for her father, a man protecting his love-but the fact was, all her dreams ended in fire and death. And when Elizabeth awoken, she had the taste of ash on her tongue, the smell of smoke burnt in her nostrils and burns upon her skin. The healers at Rivendell did all they could for her, which wasn't much. A salve for the burns so they wouldn't scar, and some medicine for a dreamless sleep that she only took when it got really bad because it was apparently highly addictive. 

"How?" Elizabeth chewed on a pomegranate seed thoughtfully. "What does this quest entail exactly?" 

"Meet me at Bag End in a fortnight which should be no trouble for you since that it where you were already headed," Gandalf said, tapping the remnants out of his pipe into the fireplace before stowing it into his cloak. 

"Bilbo's?" Elizabeth's eyes widened a moment. She didn't bother ask how he knew she was heading to Bag End, Gandalf always seemed to know everything. An annoying habit of his, he knew too much, shared too little and what he did share he shared in the form of riddles or explanations that really didn't answer anything at all. And despite her great respect and friendship with the wizard, there was always a part of her wary when it came to him. Especially when he planned to get those she cared about involved in his meddlesome schemes. 

She had kept in touch with the Baggins family ever since Gandalf bid her to go help the Shire during the Fell Winter. She ventured back from time to time, but the memory that stuck out was Belladonna's passing. Her heart could no longer bear to be without Bungo's who had died eight years prior during the Fell Winter, and the near fatal injury she herself had endured at the hands of rabid wolves. Her vibrant, adventurous spirit that made Elizabeth instantly friends with Belladonna faded, and poor Bilbo who had just turned of age was alone. 

Elizabeth glared at Gandalf suspiciously. "Why Bag End?" She asked, her fingers gripping the pomegranate too tightly and the juice from the seeds spilt down her fingers. "The Shire is not generally open to strangers, nor do I imagine Bilbo to have any inclination to get into the hornet's nest you no doubt intend to stir. Perhaps he would have before his parents' deaths, but now…I've tried everything to get him to go on an adventure. He told me to take that kind of attitude west of Bree and to put it to good use there." 

Gandalf chuckled lightly. "He has Belladonna's sass then," the wizard said, a fondness on his face. 

"Aye, and her spirit given the right circumstance I'm sure," Elizabeth murmured, her lips turned downward. She was rather protective of Bilbo, that was no great secret and he was one she would call family. Only handful of people had come to be held in such high esteem by her. "But he has settled into the life of a _respectability_ ," she really tried to the derisive tone out of the word, but failed much to Gandalf's amusement, "hobbit. And he is quite content." 

"But not happy," Gandalf commented. "And neither are you." 

"This quest is supposed to make us happy?" Elizabeth asked, blandly with an eyebrow arch in vague amusement as she chewed the pomegranate seeds between her teeth. 

"Elizabeth, imprudence does not become you," the wizard said, sternly. His blue eyes held no trace of amusement, and he looked a bit offended. 

Feeling mildly chastised, Elizabeth's lips pursed in a pout. "I'm just trying to understand what you mean. You aren't being exactly forth coming here," she said, sending him a mild glare. "Then again when are you ever?" Elizabeth hissed, underneath her breath. Gandalf snorted, looking as if he were contemplating whether to be offend or smug at that statement. 

A sigh was expelled from her lips. Her right hand twinge in pain, a constant reminder of the affliction that plagued her. In her mind's eyes, she saw a city set aflame and thunderous roar echoing in the air. A monster made of scales and blood made of fire, with eyes-such horrible eyes filled with hatred and malice-and the deafening screams. With a hiss, Elizabeth shook her head pulling herself free from the images and let out a shaky breath. 

The curse was getting stronger. The visions and spells were becoming worse. The nightmares coming every night and seemingly never ending. She had honestly contemplated going to Rivendell for help, but her heart squeezed painfully at the thought. It was a bit like a runaway going home, and that wasn't a pleasant feeling at all. Her heart felt like a heavy weight in her chest, and she gnawed on her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I'll go to Bag End, hear you out but I make no promises of going along…however," Elizabeth suddenly bargained, and she raised her head to look him straight in the eye, "you give me the answers I want regardless." 

The wizard sank slightly in his chair, looking all of his years in the briefest of seconds before he straightened his spine. "Elizabeth, dear," he began, but Elizabeth interrupted him. 

"No, you said if I came that I might get my answers, but I can't do this for a maybe, Gandalf. I am so sick of the maybes, and the half assed explanations and the 'one day you'll understand it all'," she said, her unnatural eyes flaring with some inner light. She looked at the wizard, her expression tired and she tossed the rest of her fruit into the flames because her stomach twisted in knots. "Ninety years, Gandalf. _Ninety years_ ," she said, her voice trembling over the words as emotions she had long shoved under a mask of aloofness and sarcasm. "To an elf or wizard that may be the blink of an eye, but for a human it is a lifetime. My life should have already been spent, I should have parted from the lands leaving nothing but a corpse six feet under but instead I'm froze like this," she gestured to herself. "I have no answers as to why. Why am I like this? Why did I stop aging? Why was I brought to Middle Earth? And I know you have some of these answers, Gandalf, but I know not why you do not share them with me." 

Gandalf's beard twitched, like he was torn between being amused by her petulance or slapping her over the head with staff that she was certain wasn't in his hand a second ago. "Answers…I fear the answers I would give would only leave you with more questions than be helpful at all," the wizard said, he rose from his chair gracefully. "You will have you answers, Miss Morgan, but I warn you…not all who seek like what they find." 

Elizabeth leveled him with a dry look, her lips twitching the only indication of her amusement. "I have to wonder…were you born this cryptic, or is it an art that you've mastered over time?" She asked, crossing her arms languidly over her chest. "Honestly, you should consider giving lessons." 

Gandalf just gave her a mysterious smirk before sweeping out the door, letting it close behind him on a whisper. Elizabeth stared at it for a long time before she slowly turned her gaze back to the flames. She sat there for a long time, staring at the blaze until there was nothing left, but embers. Her mind racing wildly, and it was hard to concentrate and her brows pinched displeased. The idea of another adventure made her stomach turn. Ever since she had ended up in Middle Earth, and all that happened to her…with the orcs—she swallowed thickly and shuddered. 

She heaved a sigh, placing her head in her hands. Some days she wanted answered, others she couldn't stomach the thought of them. It had been ninety years. Ninety long years where she had been pitted in a long battle against herself, her mind logically telling her to let go of the past, but her heart held on tightly. Her heart was like a stone, ever enduring. She remembered a sunny day in Lothlórien where Lady Galadriel took her hands in hers, and those eyes full of brightness, wisdom and sorrow looked into hers and she said, _"You have to endure it. Where others will crumble, under the weight and beneath the hands of time, you have to endure like the very mountain themselves…"_

Elizabeth hadn't understood what Galadriel meant by that, but she often spoke in riddled, more so than Gandalf. Her eyes absentmindedly glanced over her fingernails, shining in the firelight like diamonds another reminder of her curse. Her heart fell heavy in her chest, and she let out a long breath. Could she really find her answers? After al this time? After she had spent half of her life trying to hold onto the memories, and the other half running so far from it? When Elizabeth finally fell asleep, it was an uneasy sleep filled with fire, death and screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RRs are appreciated. Thank you all for reading!  
> I will put up a timeline at the end of the next chapter, so you'll be able to see when everything is supposed to take place and aren't quite lost with the time jumps here.  
> 1.) Nahar was the legendary horse ridden by Oromë, the Huntsman of the Valar. Nahar's coat was said to be white under the Sun, but to shimmer in silver in the night,[1] and his feet were shod in gold. (Obviously Elrond's horse is not meant to be the same one, but I could not find the name for Elrond's horse in the book so I chose that name.)


	4. To A Hobbit's House She Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth goes to the Shire, and chaos will soon follow.

CHAPTER FOUR

"To A Hobbit's House She Goes"

* * *

T.A. 2911 Winterfall The Shire

White. For as far as the eye could see. 

A sea of ice and snow showering down from the dark grey clouds billowing above, and it seemed never ending. A Fell Winter had fallen over the Shire, and it had come bearing no mercy. It started out as a great chill, sweeping down from the north carried upon foreboding dark clouds. It came too soon, too sudden. Stealing and destroying the majority of the crops that would have tided them over for the winter, and the hobbits were so unprepared. They scrambled trying to get firewood, to preserve the food for as long as they could even if it meant cutting down the seven meals into three. They had thought that was the worst and then the Brandywine had froze over. 

And wolves descended upon the Shire. 

And on the curtails of the wolves, came the orcs and wargs. 

Screams and howls filled the night and the nightmares of every hobbit. And it was not just the chill that sent shivers down Bilbo Baggins's spine as he curled into the tree, trying to block the wind and hide from any wolves-or worse-that were lurking out in the white. 

His parents and him were making their way to Brandybuck Hall, the only safe haven in the Shire after the last of their supplies dwindled down. In the white blizzard storm, they held each others hands trying to hurry when howls, he had jumped. Gotten scared and jerked his hand out of his mother's. He grasped, and cried out, trying to find her again. 

But in his panic, he had gotten lost. He heard their shouts, but it had become lost in the howling wind and their shadows lost in the white snow. The pain in his limbs was a freezing burn, and it was the only thing keeping him awake. The unblemished stretch of white had numbed his mind, and he was lying there in a daze. For a long time, he sat there clinging to that tree hearing phantom voice rising in the wind. 

He was delirious, he thought hysterically. He had lost track of the time, the minutes felt like eternity and yet at the same time like nothing at all. He feared he would never seen the end of this winter, never see home again…never see his parents…The twenty one year old hobbit sobbed, his tears frozen against his cheeks. When he saw a deer trekking through the storm, it took him several seconds to comprehend the sight before him. It was the first deer he had seen since the winter had begun. 

His vision began to go dark at the edges and his head bobbed up and down. The deer stared at him for a seconds longer before bounding away. Through the waves of fatigue and weakness he thought he saw a flash of green in the sea of white, like an ivy vine striding towards him. His felt his eyes close, and blackness engulfed him for many seconds then jolted when he felt two hands on his shoulders. At first, all he saw was green, then his eyes focused on the face beneath the green cowl. A pair of eyes, with unnatural black stems and vivid blues and yellow, staring down at him kindly. He saw the woman's mouth, she was far too fair to be a man, move, but he couldn't hear a word she said. The hood of her green cloak covered her hair, and he reached up to touch the cloth. "You're not a plant," he stated, bluntly. 

The woman smiled, a light laugh falling from her lips. "Indeed I am not," she said, her head cocking to the side. "But you are the hobbit Bilbo Baggins yes?" 

"Yes…?" Bilbo felt very confused. "Who…who are you?" 

"A friend." 

And Bilbo's world went dark. 

* * *

T.A. 2941 Springston 

The Shire

Many years had come and gone, but the Shire seemed impervious to time. Grassy hills as far as the eye could see, and the utter sense of peace one could find just by simply strolling on through. Those who inhabited this land were called hobbits. Short, pointy eared and hairy feet beings who lived in holes. Not dirty, worm filled holes like everyone believe. Hobbits were right were right and proper. Bilbo Baggins was such an a hobbit. He was as hobbitish as a hobbit could be, with his curly blond hair, pointed ears and modest clothing (not to mention his hairy feet, can't be a hobbit without hairy feet). He took comfort in the simple things such as smoky his Old Toby and food. There was only one slight thing that made Bilbo different from any of the other hobbits, and it was kind of a big deal. Not to him, but others in the Shire (cough cough Lobelia) it was. 

With a shake of his head, Bilbo banished his not so beloved cousin from his mind, closing his eyes slipping off into a deep reprieve. Today he was going to relax, and enjoy it and not spare them another thought. He inhaled from his pipe and immediately he felt himself unwind and slumped upon the bench. He breathed out, forming a perfect smoke ring if he did say so himself. It drew upward, further and further then the most peculiar thing happened. The smoke transformed into a smoke moth, that fluttered around. Bilbo sat unaware of what was going until the smoke moth, flew into his face. Bilbo lets out a little gasp of surprise and sputtered in an undignified manner. He abruptly halted when he noticed a shadow looming over him, and he looked up to see a man-impossible tall at that-draped in grey cloak, and with a pointed hat on top of his head. He stood with a staff clasped in his hands, and he looked down at Bilbo with a strange twinkle in his eye. 

Bilbo stared, perturbed up at the face and he felt a bit uncomfortable underneath such a knowing stare. However uncomfortable he was, he still was polite. "Good morning," he said, giving the man a half-hearted attempt at a smile. He glanced inside the house and wished his friend would be out here soon giving him a reason to get away without appearing impolite. "What do you mean?" The old man said, tilting his head and giving Bilbo a calculating glance while his lips twitched up into a pleasant smile. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning?" The man's smile widened when Bilbo looked more and more perplexed. "Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?" 

Bilbo paused, his brows furrowing ever so slightly as his smile fell into a confused frown. 

"All…of them at once I suppose," he said, uncertainly. He is even more bewildered when the man looked down at him with a hint of disapproval in his grey eyes. Bilbo nervously fiddled with his pipe, and asked, "Can I help you?" 

"That remains to be seen," the old man said, his voice almost a whisper. He drew himself upward, and smiled at the hobbit. "I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure." 

"An adventure?" Bilbo's eyes widened before he could help himself and he felt a brief spark of interest rise in his chest. Then he realized what he was doing, and schooled his expression into a scowl. "Now, I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things," he said, adding a condescending note to his voice to hide the slight tremble that went through him. Perhaps, she was right and he was more like his mother than he cared to admit. 

_No! No! Absolutely not!_ He quickly rose from his bench and made his way to the mailbox. "Make you late for dinner," he added, pulling the mail out of the mailbox. He looked through the mail, trying to appear busy and he sends shifty glances at the old man who was still standing there waiting ever patiently. "Well…well…good morning," Bilbo repeated, and turned to head back inside. 

He heard a huff from the old behind him. "To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son," the old man grumbled, hiding a smile when Bilbo halted in step, "as if I were selling buttons at the door." 

He froze as still as a statue, his heart sputtered in his chest at the mention of his mother. Slowly Bilbo turned back around. "I'm sorry," he said, with a light frown. "Do I know you?" "Well, you know my name, although you don't remember I belong to it. I'm Gandalf! And Gandalf means…me," the old man finished, with a slightly sheepish. 

"Gandalf…" the name sparked something within Bilbo's memory of fireworks bursting in the night sky and it all came rushing back. "Not Gandalf, the wandering wizard, who made such excellent fireworks! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve!" He grinned slightly, and then his mouth kept running before he could stop it. "I have no idea you were still in business." 

Gandalf had looked pleased until that came out of the hobbits mouth, and the wizard stared at him with an indignant expression. "And where else would I be?" He asked, arching a brow. Bilbo opened his mouth, a sheepish blush staining his cheeks and he looked down at his hairy feet which had suddenly become all the more interesting. 

"Well," Gandalf huffed lightly, "I'm pleased to find you remember something about me, even if it's only my fireworks." The wizard turned back to the hobbit and smiled. "Well, that's decided. It will be very good for you…for both of you and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others." 

"Inform the who?" Bilbo's eyes narrowed suspicious while he shifted on his feet, torn between staying to interrogate the wizard or going to help his friend. "What? No. No." He gestured at the wizard wildly with his pipe. "No! We do not want any adventures here, thank you. Not today, not…" He made his way to his door. "I suggest you try over the Hill or across the Water. Good morning." 

He hurried inside and shut the door behind him. He let out a shaky breath and leaned against his door, while wiping his sweating brow. That's when he heard a curious noise, and he turned to press his ear against the door. Bilbo went to look out the side window, only to find Gandalf's eyes appear in front of him. He gave a cry of fright and jumped to hide behind a wall. He stayed there a few minutes, before he dared glance out another window. 

This time he saw the wizard hurrying away, and relief poured through him. He slumped releasing a sigh, Bilbo leaned on his desk and his fingers brushing along the spine of a book that funny enough was about adventures. Now that he thought about it, most of his books were of adventures. He looked down at the book, a whimsical smile playing on his lips before he forced it away with a rough shake of his head. "Adventures," he spat, marching through his house. "I have no need of adventures." 

Too bad that fate seemed to disagree with Bilbo. 

* * *

Elizabeth had left Bree days ago, and was trekking across the countryside towards the Shire. She took the ferry across the Brandywine and walked for several hours, across plains and through the woods until evening fell. She camped near a thicket, and watched the moon until she fell asleep. A nightmare, vicious and unyielding, plagued her that night. Of a all consuming fire, and screams and she remembers a child crying,hugging the wooden toy ever closer to his chest, then there was a great roar, a large shadow against the sky and the tower above came crashing down then…then Elizabeth woke up, choking on a scream. Her eyes were wide and wild as she looked around the forest half expecting it to be engulfed in flames. She sat there as still as a statue for several seconds until the cool air slowly settled upon her skin, cooling her down. 

A breath shuddered through her loosening her limbs as she sank back against her bedroll, and closed her eyes against the fresh wave of tears. These nightmares were tearing her apart. Opening her eyes as a jolt of pain sear up her right arm, she glanced at it with disdain before shaking her head lightly. Pushing herself up, she started to gather her things together at a leisurely pace. She slung her pack over her shoulder, her quiver on the other and kept her bow on hand in case anything came along. A soft dawn was creeping over everything, and before the shadows were fully chased away, when she began to walk once more. The Shire was secluded place, few traveled there except merchants and traders. The hobbits tended to keep to themselves, preferring the company of their own to outsiders for a variety of reasons. 

The village was composed of smials-or hobbit holes, in lameman's terms-that were built into the hillsides. At first glance, it was easy to overlook them. At second glance, one could see the round colorful doors and the early morning light gleamed off the windows. 

The air was fragrant from the sweet smell of flowers and crisp scent of freshly cut grass. The sun shined brightly, and there was not a single cloud in the sky. There was little doubt that the valley and it's people were blessed by the Green Lady. The Shire was the picture of a perfect day, and yet, Elizabeth could not shake the phantom chill that shuddered down her spine. A ghost from the Fell Winter that couldn't be fully dispelled, no matter how much the green plains, and serene air of the Shire tried to bring her peace. She walked down the road at a leisurely pace, her quiver hanging from her hip and her bow secured to her back. Her blue eyes raked across the landscape taking the many hobbit homes along the path. Her lips quirked up in a smile as a group of fauntlings rushed past her, their laughter contagious. 

Elizabeth heard men talking loudly about the upcoming Green Lady festival, while the wives traded the latest gossip with each other as well as recipes and gardening tips. Elizabeth wove her way past the hobbits, ignoring the whispers that sprung up in her wake. The sun was bright and vivid, and was pleasantly warm. Then a voice cried out, "Elizabeth!" 

Elizabeth turned just in time to catch a familiar set of brown curls before the hobbit threw her arms around Elizabeth esthetically, and laughed merrily all the while. "Primula!" She wrapped her arms, and hugged the hobbit tightly. 

Primula Brandybuck was one of the few hobbits that Elizabeth was fond of. The young woman was free spirited, and kind and always found the silver lining. "It is so good to see you! We've missed you," Primula said, pulling back. "Where have you been?" She demanded, with a mock scolding tone and hands on her hips. 

"Everywhere and anywhere," Elizabeth replied, not missing a beat. "And I've have missed you as well." 

"Of course you would miss me, who wouldn't?" Primula said, sassily. 

Elizabeth laughed, then her expression then fell into something more serious. "Be honest with me, Prim, how is he?" Her eyes glanced in the direction of Bag End, leaving no question as to whom she was inquiring about. 

"He is well. A bit of a hermit as always, but he was at the market the other day and appeared to be in good spirits," Primula stated, quietly. "He has been worried, you know? It had been a long time since your last letter, and well, he worries." 

Guilt lanced through her and she grimaced. "Yeah, I know," she said, with a slight nod. Her eyes lingered on Bag End for a long moment, and she let out a deep sigh. "I know," she repeated a bit more quietly. The two chatted for a few moments, before parting ways and Elizabeth made her way up to Bag End. Sometimes she thought of staying here in the Shire with Bilbo, but restless soul could not be content with staying in one place. 

Or perhaps she hadn't found a place that captured her heart yet. Many said she was infected by Wanderlust, however that implied she was lost. The truth was Elizabeth never felt lost. She felt…incomplete not lost, as strange as that sounded. Raising her hand, she nodded on the green door and didn't exactly get the response she had been expecting. Instead, she heard hands slam hastily against the other side of the door and fumble with the locks. "Go away! We have no need of fireworks, mad wizard, or adventures here!" Bilbo's voice came from the other side of the door, loud and more than a little distressed. 

Elizabeth stood there for a moment, her mouth comically agape and her hand hanging in the air before she blinking wildly. "Fireworks, mad wiz…" she repeated the words, then the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Her eyes flickered down the rune that glowed upon the freshly painted door, and let out a tiny sigh. Gandalf must have gotten here first and she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Then what about old friends?" Elizabeth called out, after a long moment. Silence ticked by for several seconds before a metallic click filled the air, and the freshly painted door was hastily pulled open. Bilbo stood there, his expression pinched and his eyes narrowed until they fell upon her. Instantly, his frown smoothed out into a smile and he looked more than a little relieved. 

"Elizabeth," he breathed out, breathlessly. 

Elizabeth smiled. 

* * *

They had settled into Bag End, and Bilbo had brought out scones and snacks while Elizabeth got a kettle going for Bilbo to try some tea that she brought from Gondor. "So," Bilbo began as he sat down in his favorite chair and Elizabeth sat adjacent from him, gently taking the tea cup from him. "Where have you all been this time? What have you been doing?" 

"Oh, nothing too exciting," Elizabeth admitted, a bit sheepishly. "It's been rather quiet these last few months. A couple of times I went on hunts with the Rangers in Bree, a brief time spent in Gondor, and a visit from a wizard-" 

"A wizard?" Bilbo did a double take. 

"Gandalf the Grey." Judging by the way Bilbo's face paled then quickly flushed of anger, Elizabeth was betting Gandalf did not make a great impression on the hobbit. She stifled a chuckle as Bilbo sputtered and tried to come up with the words while she smother blueberry jam on a scone with her forefinger. 

"You _know_ that wizard?" Bilbo looked scandalized. He was still a perturbed by this mornings dealing with the wizard. Though he supposed it shouldn't be surprising that Elizabeth knew the wizard with all her travels. 

"Do you want your original question answered or not?" Elizabeth avoided the question, without batting an eyelash. The little hobbit would not be pleased to know that she knew Gandalf was up to something and trying to involve him. Though she was puzzled as to who these 'others' Gandalf were bringing along, and could not deny that it left her a bit anxious. "Or do you wish me to list off every person I've ever met?" She continued on, smoothly with her lips quirked into a half smile. 

"Sorry," Bilbo said. He dipped his head, looking a tad bit contrite, but the yearning for knowledge was shining too bright in his eyes to be disguised. 

"No, you aren't," Elizabeth noted, amused. She shifted her gaze until she was watching the flames licking the underside of the kettle. "You hide behind your father's manners all you want, but you and I both know that you are as impertinent as your mother was." 

"Pot. Kettle," Bilbo shot the words at her. 

She laughed. "Of course, I am. I know how to be little else," she said, her half smile turning into a broad grin. "Now where was I…hmm," her brows pinched in thought. "Oh, yes. I had a visit from Gandalf…that I'm not honestly sure was all that helpful." She heard Bilbo snort, and mutter unflattering things underneath his breath before she continued, "And I spent a bit of time in Bree, doing odds and ends." 

The kettle went off with a loud whistle interrupting further conversation until Bilbo picked it up with a mitten, and poured the boiling water into both of their cups. 

"The tea leaves won't need to seep long, so drink up before the flavor become too strong," she warned, before blowing on her own cup before relaxing back into the chair. Bilbo sipped it and found the taste to be a bit sweet, but not entirely unpleasant. 

"What made you decide to come and visit?" Bilbo asked, quietly. He let himself relax more than he had in a long time, a sense of ease falling over him thanks to the good tea, good food and good company. 

"Coming to visit is always on my mind," Elizabeth commented, lightly. "Bag End is one of the few places I feel completely safe, but I…it's hard to stay here." 

Bilbo blinked. "Why?" He asked. 

_Because it's not home,_ she thought, but she dare not say it. Elizabeth just gave him a sad smile and sipped her tea, gently. Bag End and Rivendell were almost home. Almost, but there…was something about them that left her empty. "I don't know. My mother used to say I had a wanderer's heart, maybe it's true," she answered, with a smile and shrug. 

"I think you think you're better off alone," Bilbo theorized. "It's seems easier that way for you. And you've been hurt," Bilbo stated, fiercely. He saw the slight surprise flash through her eyes. "Yes, I noticed. All wrapped up where no one could see them, but I see the edges of the bandages sticking out of your tunic." 

"Sometimes I forget how observant you are," Elizabeth said, giving him a sidelong look with a rueful smile upon her lips. She shifted, wincing at the soreness in her limbs. A couple of wolves had descended upon, and even though she came out the victor, she hardly came out completely unscathed. 

"Hmmm. Do you think you will ever give it up?" Bilbo asked. "The whole adventuring?" 

"Not for all the gold in the world. It makes a difference, what I do. Maybe not a big one, a noticeable one that will songs or poems written about, but it is still makes a difference nonetheless," she said, her eyes flickering towards the window as the sound of children's laughter rang out. "At least, it does to me." 

Bilbo stared at her for a long moment, taking in her wistful expression and found himself smiling fondly. "I suppose it does," he said, softly. "Now, let me take a look at your wounds." 

"They are fine," Elizabeth shrugged. 

"Uh-uh," the hobbit stated, unconvinced. He stood up from his chair, and walked over the cupboard. Pulling it open, he looked through the jars and searched for the salves he always kept around just in case of a gardening accident. "But let me check for my peace of mind, hmm? Besides, you need someone to take care of you since you clearly aren't." 

She gave him a dry look. "Pot. Kettle." 

Bilbo had the nerve to look smug. 

* * *

Bilbo was in a deep peaceful when a scream jolted him awake. Heart racing a million miles a minute, he kicked off his blankets and stumbled when another groaning scream tore through the silence of bag end. He looked glancing down the hallway, towards the red door that was sealed shut and his eyes filled with worry. He shuffled quietly across his wooden floor, and he reached the bedroom door. He heard sounded of a struggle, and he winced in sympathy. "Elizabeth…" he hesitantly called out. He knocked against the door, and called out again, "Elizabeth, are you alright?" 

Elizabeth tossed and turned in the bed. Her hair was plastered to her forehead by a sheen of sweat that had broken out across her skin. Her hands were clenched tightly, her fingers digging into blankets as she shifted restlessly. Her legs kicked out, whether it was an unconscious effort to run or an attempt to kick something away. The pulse at the base of her throat jumped wildly, and then her eyes snapped open, a harsh gasp ripping through her throat as she bolted clear off the bed. 

She landed on the floor with a loud bang, and Bilbo shoved the door open to see Elizabeth wildly looking around the room while groping like a beggar for her weapon. "Elizabeth?" Bilbo asked, hesitantly. 

Her head jerked in his direction, her eyes wide and wild and her brows furrowed when they focused upon him. Slowly, one by one, her muscles relaxed as the nightmare faded, and reality settled in. Her shoulders slumped in exhausted, and she groaned resting her head on the edge of the bed. "Bilbo?" She asked, weakly. 

"Yes?" The hobbit replied, a bit unsure. 

Everything came flooding back with a painful awareness. The calm air that Bag End always seemed to possess settle across her sweat skin, and seep in before she ran a trembling hand down her face. "I'm…I'm fine," she replied, her voice sounding more shaky than she wanted it to. Clearing her throat, she pressed on, "I'm fine. It was just a nightmare." 

"Again?" The worry was palpable in his voice. 

She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a pitying laugh. She feared she hadn't been a very good house guest, popping up out of nowhere and her nightmares that probably scared Bilbo more than they scared her. Though…they scared her quite a bit if she was being honest. Elizabeth took in a deep breath. "Nice nighties," she commented, her eyes flickering with amusement. 

Bilbo looked down at his nightclothes, and flushed wishing he had his robe. Crossing his arms over his chest, he attempted to look dignified. "I was asleep before you woke me up with all your…yelling," Bilbo sniffed, haughtily. He raked a concerned eye over her not for a second believing that she was fine in the slightest. "Are you certain you are alright?" He asked, frowning. 

"I'll be…alright, Bilbo," she told him, rising to her feet using the bed to help steady herself. "I just need a moment to myself, please?" She looked at him, taking deep and steady breaths in order to calm herself. 

Bilbo looked like he wanted to protest, but he did not know what else he could do help. He huffed, running a hand through his curls. "I…I will go make some breakfast," Bilbo said, his hands falling to his sides. "But if you aren't out there in just a few I will…" He hesitated for a second. "I will do something." 

Elizabeth bit her lip not to chuckle. "Deal," she promised, giving him her best smile. The hobbit stared at her for a long moment, then he turned and walked out of the room. She stood there for a moment, and closed her eyes to organize her thoughts and push away the nightmare to the back of her mind. Her head throbbed lightly, and the jolt of adrenaline that she had felt coursing through her veins was wearing off leaving her more exhausted than before she had fallen asleep. With a pitiful groan, she stood up and opened her eyes. The familiar walls of the smial and the homely feeling curb away the rest of her anxiety. She walked into the bathroom, when she finally managed to stop shaking and walked over to the sink. Twisting the handle, the water flowed down and she cupped it in her hands before splashing it across her face. 

The cold splash was a welcomed shock batting away the last bits of fatigue, and she went about getting herself dressed. She didn't bother putting on her light weight armor doubting she would encounter anything too deadly in the nearby forest. She was hoping for some rabbits. Bilbo always did make the best rabbit stew. She exited the room after changing, and the scent of bacon, eggs and jam wafted through the air and her stomach growled loudly. She reached the kitchen, and saw Bilbo had made her a plate of food. Settling down adjacent from him, she greeted him, "Good morning." 

Bilbo grimaced. Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "Bad morning?" She asked, with a wry smile. 

"No, it's…a good morning," Bilbo sighed. He sipped on his tea gingerly while nibble on a scone smothered in raspberry jam. Elizabeth thanked him for the food, and gingerly began to eat. "Do you…do you want to talk about it?" The hobbit asked. 

"Not really," Elizabeth murmured, her heart stuttering in her chest at the thought. "Maybe…once it isn't so fresh inside my head," she added, her eyes downcast. 

"I am always here," Bilbo offered, simply. 

A smile appeared on her face at that. Hobbits never ceased to amaze her…except the Sackville Baggins. She pities Bilbo for unfortunately being related to them. With a loud yawn, she stretched out and took her plate to the sink. She washed and dried it, before turning to Bilbo who is busy with reading a book. "I'm going hunting," she announced, pulling her hair tie out of her pocket and pulling her auburn hair back into a messy ponytail. 

"Just make sure you shoot at an actual animal this time, and not Lobelia," Bilbo retorted, his lips twitching ever so slightly. "I'd rather not hear from the Thain again…even if she did deserve it," he added underneath his breath. 

"I'll try not to, Bilbo," She chuckled, her voice carrying a low timber and a strange drawl that was quite endearing. "But who knows…maybe a rabbit will scurry in front of Lobelia on the road and my arrow just might slip?" 

"No one would believe that," Bilbo pointed out. Elizabeth grinned broadly. "You sure you don't want to come with me?" She asked, cocking her head to the side. She had retrieved her green cloak from the back of the chair, and fastened it on. "We can make an adventure of it?" 

"Adventure? Me?" He froze like a deer in headlights, his eyes going impossibly wide and look a bit hysterical. "Going on an adventure? No," he shook his head rapidly, side to side. "Just no. No." 

Elizabeth paused, her right hand twitching and part of her wondered if she should tell Bilbo about Gandalf. Being a victim of the meddlesome wizard's, she knew how exactly how he operated. "Bilbo…do you remember what I said about having a reason for coming to the Shire? Besides, coming to see you," Elizabeth stated, her brows pinched. She had tried several times to mention Gandalf to Bilbo and the wizard's plan to show up, but always ended up tongue tied. Perhaps the lack of explanation was what held her back, or perhaps Gandalf put a spell on her. 

Either way, she couldn't help feel a little guilty about it for Biblo had been so good to her. Bilbo blinked up at her in a way that reminded her of a startled rabbit. "Yes…you mentioned it a couple of times. Why?" He asked, grasping a scone so he could smother some raspberry jam on it. 

Staring at the hobbit for a long moment, Elizabeth decided she would tell him when she got back from her hunt. Suddenly, her lips quirked up into a smile just imaging Bilbo being dragged onto an adventure by Gandalf. 

"What's with that smile?" Bilbo eyed her, warily. 

Elizabeth just chuckled lightly, and she just shook her head slightly. "I'll tell you when I get back," she said with a wide grin, and pulled the green hood of her cloak over her head. The deep rich green was a strong contrast to her porcelain skin. 

* * *

A lone rabbit had stepped in her path (sadly no Lobelia in sight), its nose raised in the air as it stood back on its haunches. Elizabeth drew back an arrow, murmuring a soft apology before releasing it. The rabbit flew backwards on to the ground dead, and Elizabeth picked it up tying it off of her belt with a tiny bit of guilt. Hunting was a cruel necessity to a wanderer, it didn't mean she entirely liked it. She caught one more rabbit, and had come across deer tracks, so she was setting up a trap for the deer. The day had quickly faded away, and the orange and pink hues coming down from the treetops made Elizabeth realize that she had been dallying in the forest too long. She inanely recalled her mother saying something about idle hands once when she was a child, with a slight smile. 

_Bilbo is probably worried,_ she thought with a deep sigh. She finished planting her trap for the deer. A deer would make a good trade at the Shire market. She could get a fair amount of supplies for Bag End to repay Bilbo for his kindness in letting her stay there. Keeping her breaths slow and even, she lifted her feet with a practice precision that she had come to learn over the several years. Her eyes raking over the forest, picking out the noise of the wind from the forest life. She had been trying to lure the deer out, using fur from a wolf she had killed last fall to make the deer go where she wanted it to go. 

It should be heading for the clearing where she had left corn kernels to further entice the deer. It was a shoddy trap, if she had more time she would have planned it better, but hopefully it would work all the same. She fiddled with one of the arrows in her quiver while heading towards the clearing. That's when she heard it. A _shuffling_ sound. Too big to be a rabbit, and definitely not the graceful gait of a deer. A deep frown settled over her features, and she shoved through some bushes and into the clearing where she had hoped to meet the deer when she met something else entirely. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the man turn towards her and her heart jumped into her throat in shock. 

She whirled to face the man, and gasped when she realized that it was not a man at all. But a dwarf! Elizabeth had raised her bow on an instinct that could only be borne from battle, an arrow notched ready to fire and her face carefully blank as the equally startled dwarf had pulled out his ax ready to swing. Her unnatural eyes clashed with the deep, severe hazel gaze of the dwarf's as if they were daring each other to make the first move. For a long time, the only noise in the forest were her sharp uneven breaths. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her lips tipped downward in a frown. 

The dwarf's knuckles were white as he clutched his ax tightly. His lips pressed into a thin line, and Elizabeth realized that she would have to be the one to make the first move. "Master dwarf," she said, keeping her voice neutral as she studied him carefully. He was an intimidating looking dwarf with his bald head covered in tattoo, mighty beard and his gruff stance. Her bow was drawn tight, her arrow quaking ever so slightly as indecision filled her. Licking her dry lips, she debated whether she should she put her weapon down, or keep steady just in case? The fierce looking dwarf narrowed his eyes, his hands flexing around his mean looking axe obviously going over his choices. 

He didn't make any motion to charge her, meaning he knew he would get shot down before he had the time to swing. She admired that he didn't stand down right away. A fighting spirit much like her own. "You going to put that arrow away, lassie?" The dwarf growled, through clenched teeth. 

The right side of her mouth quirked up in amusement, and she almost put the arrow back in her quiver when she heard a branch crack from somewhere up above. Her eyes flickered to the hill behind him. In one movement, so subtle that one who wasn't paying attention would have missed it, she redirected her bow and let go. She watched the dwarf jerked back, bringing his weapon to defend himself when a loud thud behind him made him whirl around. There lying on the forest floor was a deer, the arrow sticking through right through its heart. "I apologize, Master dwarf," her voice low and calm as her eyes met the dwarf's, "if I startled you. It was not my intention." 

The suspicious look didn't lessen in the slightest. Elizabeth carefully hooked her bow on her shoulder, and went to inspect her catch. "Hmm," she knelt down, her fingers gently brushing the gentle animal's head. "Thank your for giving your life," she murmured softly to the animal while taking the arrow out of its head, "so we may survive." 

A shuffle beside her made her look and she saw the dwarf was still standing there. His gaze on her, ever wary, but there was confusion there to. Elizabeth rose, brushing the leaves that clung to her cloak off and inquired, politely, "Where does the road take you, Master dwarf?" 

"My business is my own," the dwarf stated, gruffly. 

"Forgive me, it was not my intention to pry," she said, with great care because she did not know this dwarf, nor have any inclination to trust him. "It is not often that we have a dwarf wander into the Shire, and I thought that perhaps you have lost your way and was in need of some assistance." 

The tattooed dwarf considered her words for a long moment, his hands still clenched around his ax. She had no illusions that if he decided to strike that she would make it out okay. His icy blue eyes were filled with mistrust, but a reluctant grunt from his lips. "I look for Bag End," he finally divulged, with grudgingly. 

Elizabeth's polite disposition instantly cooled, as her blood felt like ice coursing through her veins. She drew herself up to her full height and eyed the dwarf with suspicion. She spoke, her voice as hard as diamonds, "May I ask what you want with Bag End?" She eyed him up and down, briefly wondering if he was part of the 'others' that Gandalf mentioned to Bilbo. 

"As I said before my business is my own," the dwarf snapped. Dwarves were not the trusting sort it appeared. He muttered something in a guttural language, and Elizabeth knew it wasn't something nice. 

"Not when it has something to do with my friend's home," Elizabeth shot back, her voice just as fierce. Her fingers itched to draw another arrow, but he could easily hack her head off before she got the time to shoot. _Must tread carefully,_ she thought to herself and kept her body poised to run if necessary. 

"Your friend's…" Understanding filled the dwarf's eyes, and he shifted to face her once more, looking her up and down. The weight of his gaze was judging and Elizabeth made sure she didn't shy away. After a long moment of silence, he seemed to come to some sort of decision before bowing slightly to her. "Dwalin, at your service," he introduced himself, the stiffen in his bow told her how reluctant he was in that greeting. 

Elizabeth hesitated a moment, her lips pursed. "Elizabeth Morgan, at yours and your family," she inclined her head, and allowed herself to relax ever so slightly. "Well, if it is Bag End that you seek, Master Dwarf, then I shall lead you there." Her head cocked to the side. "That is…if you agreeable to that suggestion?" 

Dwalin gave a sharp nod. "Aye, lass," the dwarf said. "It is agreeable." 

* * *

Bilbo was quite worried when the sun dipped down and Elizabeth had yet to arrive. He even went and reread her letter—twice—to check and make sure that tonight was indeed the night that she had planned on arriving. He supposed that she could have found something that piqued her curiosity, it wouldn't be the first time and yet there was an unsettling feeling in the pit of his gut like something strange would soon be happening. He finished cooking dinner, and placed Elizabeth a plate off the side covering it with a towel to keep it warm. He took his own plate, and heads towards the table. He tucked his napkin into his collar and picked up his utensils when a knock came from the door. 

He paused, his brows furrowing. His first thought went to Elizabeth, but she wouldn't knock. Setting his utensils carefully down, he pulled the napkin from his neck and set it down on the table before rising from his seat. He padded across the wooden floor, trying to think of who would disturb him at this hour. Probably Lobelia, she had the uncanny knack for coming around at the most inopportune times. He sighed, and opened the door ready to politely send her on her way when he froze on the spot. 

_That is not Lobelia._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment! Guest and registered user comments are welcome. I will be updating fast on this story because I have it written up to Chapter Twenty-Two so far, but this will be the last chapter for the next few days and I hope you are all enjoying it. :D


	5. The Hobbit and A Lot of Dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves show up at Bag End, and throw a party much to Bilbo's chagrin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank hwinde and the 12 guests for the kudos! You all are wonderful! :D
> 
> I want to give a special thanks to KD, and hobbit gal for your comments! You are wonderful, and comments always make me update faster so feel free to keep them coming, lol. :D
> 
>  
> 
> Pairings: Eventual Thorin/OC, Biblo/Eleanor Woodbine 
> 
> Verse: It will be a mixture of the book and movie, but probably will lean more towards the movie since it's the one I know most about. I've only read half of the book so far. 
> 
> Warning: Eventual nightmares, torture, sexual themes and more
> 
> "Regular Talking"  
>  _'Thought will be set up like this.'_  
>  "Elvish words and translation will be in italic." I've tried to use as much elvish from reliable sites as I could to get an authentic feel. Some things I don't have elvish for, but they will still be in italics so consider it elvish."

CHAPTER FIVE 

"The Hobbit and A Lot of Dwarves"

Bilbo couldn't only stare, mouth agape. He felt absolutely befuddled. He couldn't remember another time in his life that he felt as befuddled as this, and he felt all thought fly out of his mind leaving him stammering like a halfwit. The person upon his doorstep…well, it was certainly not Lobelia, and first time in his life (and last), he wished it had been his cousin upon his doorstep for standing on the other side of the threshold was dwarf, who easily towered over him. He was intimidating and fierce with his tattooed scalp, draped in furs and weapons. "Ah…" was the only thing Bilbo was capable of saying articulately. The rest just came out as squeaks or strained mumbles. 

"Dwalin, at your service," the dwarf introduced himself, giving a surprisingly graceful bow for someone who had a deer slung over his shoulder. 

Shell-shocked, Bilbo let out a noise like a whimper. He fumbled with his robe, tying it shut and stood taller. "Bilbo…Bilbo Baggins, at yours," he greeted with a slight bow. 

"Do you know where I can put the deer down, lad?" Dwalin asked, abruptly. 

"The deer…what deer?" Bilbo said, his voice trembled with confusion and he was desperately trying to grasp the situation when a familiar voice interrupted him. Was there a dwarf on his doorstep, and why did he have a deer slung over his shoulder? 

"You can set it down here, Master Dwalin," Elizabeth appeared by the dwarf's side and pointed to the yard. "I will take it around back to skin it later. Dinner is on the table, I'm sure," Elizabeth added, with a tiny wince when Bilbo's head snapped towards her. Bilbo's ear tips went red, and she sent him an apologetic look when he looked at her accusingly. "Thank you for your help. I appreciate it." 

Dwalin grunted in acknowledgment before slinging the deer off his shoulder in one swift moment before barging in past Bilbo without a word. The hobbit watched the dwarf with wide eyes, while Elizabeth shifted nervously on her feet waiting for the inevitable explosion to happen. Finally, the hobbit's head slowly turned in her direction, and she gave him a shrug with a tentative smile. 

"Elizabeth!" Bilbo sputtered, and looked near pulling his hair out of his head before he finally gathered his wits. "What are you doing bringing back…a _dwarf_?!" Bilbo struggled to keep his voice barely more than a whispered. Both he and Elizabeth's eyes flickered towards their guest who settled himself down in front of Bilbo's dinner in fear that he had just heard those words. Thankfully, Dwalin seemed more interested in the fish than them at the moment. 

"Why is that so surprising? I mean, honestly you've caught me doing stranger," Elizabeth tried to appear nonchalant, but Bilbo sent her a surprisingly vicious look that had her holding up her hands in surrender. "In my defense, he was already headed here. Something about being invited by a wizard for an…adventure?" She cocked her head to the side. 

The anger drained out of the hobbit's face, and Bilbo pressed his hands to his face as the cold realization settled upon him. "Gandalf," Bilbo groaned, running his hands down his face. 

"That rotten wizard…why are the two of you up to?" The hobbit sent her a glare. 

"Hey! I'm actually innocent here!" Elizabeth placed her hands on her hips. "For the most part…" A guilty flush crawled across her face. "Okay…maybe I knew a little, but not a lot. Gandalf doesn't exactly share his mad schemes with me before he drags me head first into them," she said, with a helpless little shrug of her shoulders. Her lips pursed, and she glanced over at the dwarf eating at the fish as if it were the most decent thing he had eaten in a while. Giving a soft sigh, she looked back down at Bilbo and said, "I don't what Gandalf is doing, Bilbo, and I can't stop the wizard when he puts his mind to something. All I can do is…uh, be here for emotional support?" 

"Now why doesn't that sound reassuring?" Bilbo said, with a heavy sigh. "I suppose I have little choice now that he is here, after all. I should be a gracious host to him. After all, father would roll in his grave if I were anything less." 

Elizabeth's smile froze on her face, before it twisted into a grimace. Gently she reached out and patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Oh, you poor, poor hobbit. Not him," she said, softly. 

"Not him?" Bilbo looked puzzled. 

" _Them_ ," she corrected, quietly. 

"Them?" Bilbo repeated, and he cocked his head staring at her as if he hadn't heard quite right. His hands on his hips and he inquired as if he didn't understand the word at all, "Them? As in more…dwarves…coming here…?" 

Elizabeth nodded, sympathetically. 

"No! No!" Bilbo brushed past her, looking around wildly searching for something that would somehow help him out this. Or something to at least bar the door. Unfortunately, he could find nothing. "We'll…we'll just pretend we aren't here. Just like we do when Lobelia shows up. Oh, why do I keep inviting you here? All you do is bring trouble!" 

"Because I'm adorable?" Elizabeth bit back a laugh. 

"This is not a joking matter, Elizabeth! This is serious! Dwarves in my home! What will the neighbors think? What will they say?" Bilbo spoke quickly, his voice breathless as he fiddled with buttons of his waistcoat. "There must be a mistake! Surely this is a mistake!" 

"Bilbo," Elizabeth reached out trying to console the hobbit, but he whirled around shooting off towards the diner room. Elizabeth followed and watched him walk right up to Dwalin and clear his throat. The dwarf paused, then raised his gaze. 

Bilbo opened and shut his mouth a few times, before he finally regained his voice. "How…how do you know my house is the right…" Bilbo cleared his throat, shooting Elizabeth an annoyed look. "Is the right house that you…are looking for?" The hobbit fidgeted underneath Dwalin's intimidating stare. 

There was a beat. "The mark on the door," Dwalin stated simply. 

"There's no mark on the door!" Bilbo looked aghast. 

Elizabeth nose wrinkled like a kitten's when it was disgruntled, and there was an apologetic tilt to her mouth. Her eyes flickered from the floor to the door then back at Bilbo, who looked at her with wide eyes. "There's a mark on the door," Elizabeth said, quietly. 

"But I just painted the door!" Bilbo said, loudly. "I spent hours…Nay! Slaved away for _days_ painting that door! Who would put a mark on it?" The hobbit demanded, hands on his hips. 

"Probably…uh, Gandalf," she said, biting back a laugh because it wasn't appropriated to laugh at her friend's misery especially considering she felt partially responsible for it. Elizabeth then gave a Dwalin a tiny smile while placing her hands on Bilbo's shoulders, and asked, "Could you just…uh, give us a moment, Master Dwalin?" 

He grunted, and she took that as a 'yes' and then steered Bilbo towards the hallway. When they reached there, Elizabeth leaned down and looked him straight in the eyes. "Bilbo," she spoke softly, "deep breaths. In and out." 

The hobbit on the verge of a break down just glared at her, his chest rose and fell with sharp and swift breaths. 

"Look I know that this is unexpected, and not at all how you envisioned tonight going, but sometimes life throws you unexpected things. And sometimes those things are better than the expected," Elizabeth confided in him, quietly. "What kind of life do you really want Bilbo? One where you denied ever bit of wonder and curiosity? Or one where you surprised even yourself by what you did and what you learned?" 

"It's only dinner, Elizabeth," Bilbo pointed out, dryly though her words did cause an ache of longing in his chest. "Not an adventure. I'm not going on any adventures," he felt it necessary to add. "No matter what that wizard says, no matter what you say I will not be going." 

"You never know," Elizabeth stated, with a half smile. "Adventures are everywhere, even when you aren't looking for them." 

"If you say so," Bilbo said, but he doubted any such adventures came around the Shire. And if they did, he would not be interested. Not one tiny bit. His hazel green eyes looked up at Elizabeth, searchingly. "Are you sure that it's safe? Bringing him here?" Bilbo questioned, warily. 

Elizabeth paused, because truthfully she was uncertain even if Gandalf was involved. She did not trust easily, despite the bright smiles and cheery persona she could put on at a seconds notice. She personally blames that on her first, and most unfortunate encounter in Middle Earth and the years of isolation following that event for her hardened heart. "I believe so," Elizabeth commented, carefully. Her blue eyes flickering to the dwarf, and she studied him for a long moment. He could have easily attacked her several times on their way to Bag End, but he didn't and that put some points in his favor. Elizabeth continued, softly, "Dwarves are usually quite honorable, and he hasn't caused great harm yet—" 

"Tell that to my dinner," Bilbo retorted, smartly. 

"You can eat mine," Elizabeth sighed. She reached up and pinched her brow. "Look, let's just remember our manners—" 

"What manners?" Bilbo snorted. "You haven't got any." 

Elizabeth looked affronted. "I'll have you know that I can be quite charming when the occasion calls for it," she said, with a mock scowl. Bilbo bit the inside of his cheek, fighting off a grin. Elizabeth just huffed crossing her arms over her chest and glowered down at him. 

Bilbo smiled cheekily in return. 

* * *

About a half hour passed by the time that there was another knock at the door. By that time, Elizabeth and Bilbo had pushed tables together and brought out chairs. Elizabeth had made sure Bilbo ate before any of the other guests arrive because she had a feeling things would soon be too hectic for either of them to get the chance. Dwalin had helped, surprisingly though he only grunted in acknowledgement when Elizabeth thanked him. He wasn't much for words, she supposed. They had a feast out on the table, and Elizabeth had just started cutting up the deer and putting the meat out to cook. Some for tonight, the dwarves would no doubt be starving and drying some out over the flame to take on her travels. Jerky had a shelf life that most other foods didn't. She practically lived off the stuff on the road. 

A great knock at the door made her jump, and her hand landed on her bow. She shook her head after a moment, and released the weapon noticing Dwalin looking at her out of the corner of her eye. "That'll be the door," Dwalin stated. 

Bilbo just looked at him, and wondered did all dwarves state the obvious before he went to the door. He took in a deep breath, hoping that the Green Lady would give him strength then pulled it open. He found himself face with another dwarf, but this one wasn't as intimidating at Dwalin. He was an old, white-haired dwarf whose beard was styled to be split at the end. He had a genially expression that put Bilbo at little bit at ease. The dwarf bowed, "Balin, at your service." 

"At you and yours," Bilbo replied in kind. 

"Am I late?" Balin inquired. 

"Your only the second dwarf here," Bilbo said, because he wasn't sure what time this…meeting of Gandalf's would transpire, but when the wizard showed up, the hobbit would be having some words him. Serious and unpleasant words. Bilbo ushered Balin, trying to remember all his good hobbit manners and stick to them. 

"Ah, good," Balin smiled broadly seeing the other dwarf. His eyes filling up with great joy. "Evening, brother." 

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, and looked at Elizabeth who was cleaning her hands off blood with a rag finally finishing up with the deer and having deposed of its body in the back yard. He mouthed, 'Brothers?' and gestured between the two dwarves. Elizabeth cocked her head, looking between the two and she just shrugged. Dwalin clasped his brother's arms and said, "Oh, by my beard, you are shorter and wider than last we met." 

Balin laughed. "Wider, not shorter. Sharp enough for the both of us," he laughed, and then the two smashed their heads together. Bilbo blinked taking a step back and Elizabeth even looked a bit taken aback. Balin then saw Elizabeth, and said, "Oh, forgive me my lack of manners, lass. Dinnae see you there. Balin, at your service," he gave her a bow with a smile. 

"Elizabeth, at you and yours," she replied in kind, her tone was a bit bemused of the whole head butt thing. "Take a seat where ever you like, and help yourself," Elizabeth smiled, and when she passed by Bilbo she leaned down and hissed in his ear. "See I told you I had manners." 

Bilbo bit his lip harshly in an effort not to laugh out loud. "For how long?" He shot back. Elizabeth covertly stuck her tongue out of at the hobbit. 

"My what a feast! I haven't seen a feast so magnificent since I left the Blue Mountains," Balin commented, brightly. 

"Aye," Dwalin agreed, gruffly. "Ale, brother?" 

"As if I could say no," Balin chuckled, as Dwalin filled his brother up a cup. Bilbo let out a sigh of relief that this seemed to be going better than expected, only to cringe slightly when there is another knock at the door. Elizabeth had sympathy on him and walked around the two dwarves, and said, "I'll get the door, Bilbo. Perhaps you should go check on the food?" 

"Yes…yes, I'll go to that," Bilbo sounded a tad faint. 

Elizabeth pulled the door open, and found herself facing two young and handsome dwarves. The one on the left had a with the blond mane reminded her of a lion, his blue eyes filled with intelligence and mischief. On the left, was a brunette who had long hair that stopped just past his shoulder and yet possessed no beard which threw her off for a moment, but the young dwarf's beard was no business of hers so she let it go. He had an impish glint in his eyes, even though they strived to remain serious. Though the two appeared to look as different as the day is to night on first glance, with only the wild glint in their gazes, she did notice several similarity on further inspection. Their eyes were same shape, their lips similar and they both carried the same strong jaw. They were obliviously related. Brothers if she were to guessed. 

There was something familiar about the two of them. A primal feeling of recognition that she didn't understand because she was sure she had never met these dwarves before her life. Elizabeth had a curious tilt to her head, watching them expectantly. 

"Fili," the blond started, solemnly. 

"Kili," the brunette continued, seriously. Together they bowed, their movements completely in sync and finished with, "At your service." 

Her eyebrow ticked upward in surprise, reminded faintly of a certain pair of twins in Rivendell. She held her tongue, having a feeling the comparison would not go over well with all the bad blood between dwarves and elves. 

"You must be, Missus Boggins," Kili smiled. 

As soon as she laid eyes on them she knew they were going to be trouble. It was written in their smiles and eyes as plain as day. Elizabeth kept her expression blank when she regarded them and their weapons. She noted with surprised that the brunette carried a bow which was traditionally an elf weapon. She also noticed blond was the older of the two brothers, and protective because he stood slightly in front of his brother. Barely noticeable really, but Elizabeth saw it. 

"No," Elizabeth shook her head. She would get a kick out of telling Bilbo this later. "I'm afraid I have not the pleasure of that title." 

"Do we…have the wrong house?" Fili asked, after sharing a look with his brother. 

"No, you have the right house," she stepped aside to let them in. "Mister _Baggins_ ," she stressed Bilbo's name, "is inside with the others." 

Fili then smiled charmingly that would have many woman swooning. "Then if you aren't not Missus Baggins, please my lady, allow me the simple pleasure of your name." 

_Oh, great. A couple of flirts._ Elizabeth's lips twitched upward against her will. "Well, I suppose it would be rather rude to deprive you of your simple pleasures," she said, fighting to keep her face as straight as possible. 

"Oh, most rude indeed," Kili grinned, broadly. 

"Elizabeth Morgan," she bowed, at the waist. "At your service. Please," she straightened, "come in. But I must ask that if your shoes are muddy," which they were, she had noticed that too, "that you leave them at the door. You can set your weapons there," she gestured to the spot where Dwalin had set his axes. Balin's weapon now resided there, too. The young men did as they were bid with little complaint and Elizabeth led them to the dining room. Balin was seated by his brother, the two heavily in a conversation which they changed to a different language as she walked in. She merely quirked up an eyebrow, and nothing else. They didn't know them, they didn't trust them which was completely fair because Elizabeth didn't trust these dwarves either. 

"Take a seat where you like, and help yourself. I must go help, Bilbo," she said, spying the hobbit peeking around the corner from his pantry. She walked into the pantry and looked at Bilbo who sat upon the counter, his feet hanging a few inches above the ground. He nibbled worriedly on a biscuit he had plucked for himself and his eyes were dark with thought. 

"Bilbo," she asked, "are you okay?" 

"Fine," he bit off a piece of biscuit. "Peachy. Just needed a moment to myself. A moment to…to catch my breath," he stuttered, nervously eating the crust of the biscuit before eating the center. 

"Well, I'm here if you need me for anything, you know that right?" she said, quietly and squeezed his hand affectionately. The dwarves bold personalities were overwhelming even she could feel that. Bilbo smiled gratefully at her. Elizabeth had his back whenever he needed it the most, and he never thank her enough for that. 

"Thank you," he smiled before hopping of the counter and landing on his feet. He finally felt calm, and the two headed back to the dining room when a loud knock came from the door. Bilbo closed his eyes, heaving a sigh and Elizabeth looked amused. "And I'm very impressed by the way. You haven't said a single curse, even when Dwalin set the table down on your toes," he grinned, cheekily. 

"Don't think they haven't crossed my mind." Elizabeth said seriously, wiggling her sore toes with a mournful look. That was so going to hurt tomorrow. "Do you want me to get that?" Elizabeth asked, her lips twitching. 

"No, I'll get it," Bilbo declined her offer. 

Elizabeth watched him walk the corner and out of sight. She turned, and then had to come to a complete halt when faced with the two young dwarf brothers. Arching a brow and placing one hand on her hip she, inquired, "Can I help you?" 

The two shared a glance before both grinned at her. "We couldn't help but notice," Kili began, his lips quirked in a half smile. 

"That you, fair lady, are not a hobbit," Fili finished, with an award winning smile. 

The whole finishing each other sentences gave her pause, but not as much as what they said. Of all the things that they could have said, that certainly wasn't what Elizabeth had been expecting. "Oh, dear," she said, a teasing smirk gracing her features, "whatever gave me away? My lack of pointy ears, the way that my hair does not curl or perhaps it is because my severe lack of foot hair?" She arched an eyebrow at the pair. 

"All of the above," Fili breezily retorted, without a lick of shame in his voice. "We were just wondering what a lady like you was doing in a place like this." 

"And why shouldn't I be here?" Elizabeth asked, tilting her head to the side reminiscent of cat who was debating whether to lash out with its claws. 

"What we mean," Kili stepped in, "is that the Hobbits…didn't seemed to thrilled to have us dwarves stomping on through." 

"I suppose that didn't have to do with anything with the flowers that were stuck to the bottom of your boots?" Elizabeth questioned, with a wide eyed innocent look upon her face. A smirk pulled at her lips when both of them looked gave a pair of guilty grins like two kids who just caught with their hands in the cookie jar. The two jolted when a great pair of hands landed on their shoulders, Elizabeth just quirked a half smile at Dwalin who had a suspicious gleam in his eyes. The brothers' shared a panic look, that caused Elizabeth to bite her lip in order not to laugh. 

Dwalin said, sternly, "Less flirting, more helping!" 

Elizabeth watched, sniggering behind her hand as Dwalin dragged them away by their ears. She eased her way through the throng of dwarves and headed towards the door. The closer she got to the door, the clearer she head a familiar voice. _Gandalf. About damn time,_ she thought, her eyes narrowing into slits. She walked around the corner, ready to lay into the wizard but the great heap of dwarves on the floor made her freeze. 

She blinked and blinked before shaking her head. Raising her gaze, she looked at the wizard. Gandalf gave Bilbo that grandfatherly smile of his and open his mouth, to weasel his way out of tongue lashing most likely. However, he didn't get the chance. "Oh, no, no, no," Elizabeth voice's eclipsed all others and she walked around the corner with a smug smile upon her lips. "Not so fast," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. Gandalf looked only faintly surprised to see her there. She wondered if he had been counting on that. "You are late, Mr. Grey." 

Bag End went silent, and all of its occupants eyes were on the glaring woman and the grey wizard. Gandalf straightened his spine, eyeing her with a frown. "A wizard is never late, Elizabeth Morgan," he told her, haughtily. "He arrives precisely when he means to." 

"Hmph, if you say so." 

"I do," Gandalf said, sternly. "I am pleased to see that you made it. Means one less person to round up," the wizard said, and he carefully stepped around the group of dwarves who were untangling themselves and picking themselves off the floor. 

Elizabeth looked up at him, dryly. "Are you finally going to tell me what exactly you are up to, Gandalf?" She asked, hands on her hips and a cool eyebrow raised. 

The wizard chuckled lightly. "All will be explained in due time. You must trust me on this, _Adlanniel_ ," he told her, using her old nickname to soften her. It worked despite how much Elizabeth tried to not to let it, and she gave a resigned sigh. 

"Fine," Elizabeth crossed her arms over her. "But it better be a good one," she said, pulling back to stand along side of Bilbo. She laid her hand on the hobbit's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze as he stared at the sheer amount of dwarves in house. "I believe introductions are in order," Elizabeth replied, a light smile on her face as her eyes ran across all the dwarves. 

"Oh! Of course," Gandalf gathered himself, and he began to list all of the dwarves who stood waiting. "Nori, Ori, Dori…Bofur, Bifur, Bombur, Oin and Gloin," the wizard said, while counting them off on his hand. The dwarves all muttered 'at your service' with a few bows, and nods at Elizabeth and Bilbo. "And these my dear dwarves, is Bilbo Baggins and Elizabeth Morgan." 

"At…at your service," Bilbo offered, timidly. 

Elizabeth just quietly inclined her head politely and wondered with no small amount of dread (and excitement) what she had just signed up for. 

* * *

The dwarves were loud. 

So loud, and boisterous that Elizabeth was surprise none of Biblo's neighbors had gotten curious and came around for a peek. She sat back in the corner, out of the way in an attempt to not get trampled and watched the group warily. She became a wallflower, attempting to fade into the background. It gave her a chance to examine the current company without being in the fray. Elizabeth had her arms crossed over her chest, and her chin held up slightly. They dwarves immediately attacked the food on the table, and some even went to get more out of the pantry. Bilbo was running around looking utterly frazzled. "Those are my plates! Excuse me! Put that back. Put that back!" The hobbit stumbled past her, and she steadied him with a hand. 

"Calm yourself, Bilbo," Elizabeth's voice was soft and soothing. She knew that he was trouble with the pantry being so empty. It had been an unfortunate quirk he had picked after the Fell Winter, the need for the pantry to be stock so he would never worry about being starved. The hobbit gave her a deadpanned look, as he really wanted to say something mean, but bit his tongue. 

Bombur walked by with three entire wheels of cheese in his arms, and Elizabeth is momentarily taken back by the sight as was Bilbo. The hobbit looked at the red headed dwarf, in shock. "Excuse me. A tad excessive, isn't it? Have you got a cheese knife?" The hobbit asked, bemused. 

"Cheese knife?" Bofur gave a smile, his dark eyes twinkling madly as he laughed. "He eats it by the block!" 

Bilbo's mouth dropped open slightly, and he placed his head into his hands. Elizabeth shoved on his shoulder, urging him towards the hallway. "Go and take a breath," she said, softly. Bilbo sent her a grateful look before heeding her advice. Elizabeth leaned back into the corner once more becoming invisible to the festivities that were going on in front of her. The dwarves laughed, and poured glass after glass of ale while Fili and Kili attempt to out drink the other. 

She wondered if all dwarves were like this. She had only met one dwarf before and well, it hadn't be ideal circumstances. The only other glimpses she had gotten from dwarves were from her nightmares. A loud cheer from the dwarves after Kili beat Fili in downing a pint of ale first broke her out of her thoughts. She swallowed thickly, and turned away from the dwarves because all she could see was the sight of hundred of dwarves begin burned alive. Their screams still echoing inside of her head. _Oh, God…I just want answers. What is Gandalf playing at?_ She thought, her fingernails biting into her palms harshly. Swallowing back the bile, she finally managed to looked back at the dwarves. They were certainly a cheery bunch, not something she had expected at all. The hair on the back of her neck prickled warningly as Gandalf drew to her side, his grey brows drawn together as he studied her. 

_"Manen le, mellyn nin?"_ Gandalf asked, watching her look over the group warily. He knew her great aversion to large crowds, and in the small smial she must be feeling very anxious. Her right hand twitched as if to clasp her bow, and the wizard was happy that he had to the forethought to hide it even though he was sure Elizabeth would pay him back in kind once she found out. 

_"Im maer,"_ she replied, shortly. Her voice was quiet enough to go unheard underneath all the noise, except by the wizard. "What is your intentions here, Gandalf?" She questioned, her voice darkening. "What do you want with Bilbo? Why did you bring these dwarves here?" 

Gandalf hummed lightly. He knew if the hobbit agreed to the journey, Elizabeth would follow him. He felt the weight upon his shoulder ease slightly at this. "I mean no harm, if that is your concern," the wizard spoke carefully. 

"It is one of many," Elizabeth retorted, her strange eyes shooting him a hard look. The wizard chuckled lightly not in the least bit affected by it. 

That's when Dori approached them with a tray of tea. Dori's hair was gray and his beard had several intricate braids, and he had a very nurturing nature, especially towards his youngest brother Ori, from what she had seen. "Excuse me, Mr. Gandalf, Miss Morgan, can I tempt you with a nice cup of chamomile tea?" The dwarf inquired, politely. 

"Oh, no thank you, Dori. A little red wine for me, I think," the wizard inclined his head politely and moved away from Elizabeth to avoid further questions. 

Elizabeth opened her mouth to stop him, before sighing her shoulders slumping. Looking at Dori who looked at her expectantly, she gave him a smile. "A cup of tea sounds lovely, Master Dori," she said, softly. "Thank you." 

"Here you go miss," he handed her a steaming cup of tea. 

She thanked him again, and let him go on his way. Elizabeth took a tiny sip, the flowery taste of the chamomile settling her nervous just a bit. Her thumb traced the floral pattern on the cup while a chuckle escaped her when Gandalf hit his head on the chandelier while avoiding the scurrying dwarves. He shot her a glance, and she shot him an innocent look. He shook his head, and he turned around. He started to counting the dwarves on his fingers. "Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bombur, Dori, Nori…Ori…" He paused, a realization dawning in his eyes. Bifur approached the wizard muttering to him in a language that Elizabeth could not translate. Gandalf nodded. "Yes, you're quite right, Bifur. We appear to be one dwarf short," Gandalf commented. 

"He is late, is all. He traveled North to a meeting of our kin. He will come," Dwalin announced loudly. 

_At least I have that roast still cooking then, otherwise we'd have little to offer this late dwarf,_ Elizabeth thought, wryly. She moved into kitchen and fixed up a plate before setting it off to the side and covering it over to keep it warm. She moved back out and saw Dori hand Gandalf the smallest glass of red wine ever. The wizard looked at it sadly, and Elizabeth sniggered behind her hand. After a few minutes, all the dwarves settled in the dining room and around the grand feast, the part that Bilbo and Elizabeth had made, and the parts the Dwarves had decided to add to it. All in all it was a lot of food. There were eating noisily, and messy which she could see by the look on Bilbo's face he wasn't enjoying one bit. 

"Bombur, catch!" Bofur tossed a piece of food to Bombur. 

Bombur leaned to the ride and caught the door in his mouth, and everyone cheers. Elizabeth laughed when a food fight begun, and Bilbo just shakes his head with a mournful groan. 

Elizabeth wanted to take pity on him, but held back because she thought Bilbo needed this. Bilbo had milquetoast personality outwardly, but deep down inside Elizabeth knew there was stronger hobbit waiting to burst free. If only Bilbo could see that strength himself. 

Bilbo sent a mournful glance at his pantry which was nearly cleaned out, and heaved a sigh wiping a tired hand down his face. He turned when he heard a startled noise burst out of Elizabeth's lips when Fili jumped on the table carrying several cups of ale, and knocking the food out of his way as he went. "Who wants an ale?" Fili asked, and several shouts went up all around him. He started passing them out. 

He handed one to Dwalin who decided to pour it in Oin's hearing trumpet, and Oin sputtered in anger, his face turning red. Everyone else laughed, and Elizabeth hid a smile behind her hand. On the count of three, the dwarves tried to down their ale in gulp. The ale poured all over their faces and runs down their beards, and Elizabeth winced at the mess that there would be come the end of the night. Ori, the youngest of the group lets out the biggest burp. While the dwarves laugh loudly, Bilbo just shook his head in disgust. 

"They have different customs than hobbits, Bilbo," Elizabeth said, quietly. "I don't think they are intentionally being rude." 

Bilbo let out a huff, but the tension on his face eased ever so slightly. He shot her a look, and took in her pale face. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost," the hobbit commented. 

"Something like that," Elizabeth admitted. She forced a smile on her face when Bilbo shot her a worriedly look. "It's…nothing. Nothing to worry about," she fumbled for the words, her right palm tingling painfully. 

The hobbit looked like he wanted to argue that a lot, but pinched his brow. "How long have you known him?" Bilbo asked. "Gandalf, I mean." 

"Since I was a child," Elizabeth replied. 

"Has…that is to say, has he always been so…so sneaky?" Bilbo asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and looked over at her out of the corner of his eye. He saw her lips pull into a smile, as she snorted in laughter. 

"Actually? Yeah, he's always been that way," Elizabeth chuckled, thinking of all the stunts Gandalf had pulled over the years. She had dubbed him (loudly and quite drunk) the most meddlesome person in all of Middle Earth. Gandalf hadn't been amused at the time. Elrond on the other hand had never forgotten and loved to bring up the memory whenever the Grey Wizard was around. 

"I'm not going to enjoy this, am I?" Bilbo asked, turning towards her. 

"Yes and no," Elizabeth said, with a sympathetic smile. The hobbit groaned, pitifully. Elizabeth raised her gaze, and saw Gandalf arching a brow her way as if he had heard the entire conversation. He probably did, and Elizabeth just gave him a big shrug. Dinner came to an end, and the dwarves started wandering around Bag End. She supposed it was genuine curiosity on their part, but it was irritating on Bilbo's end. 

"Excuse me, that is a doily, not a dishcloth!" Bilbo snatched the doily from Nori. 

"But it's full of holes!" Bofur looked at it, bemused. Bilbo looked at him. "It's supposed to look like that," the hobbit sighed. "It's crochet." 

"Oh," Bofur shrugged, "and a wonderful game it is too, if you go the balls for it." Elizabeth snorted loudly. "Ah, there you are lassie!" Bofur turned towards her. "Why you hiding in the corner for?" 

"Less chance of getting stepped on," Elizabeth answered, with a light smile on her lips. 

"But all the more chance to miss out on all the fun!" Kili cried appearing on her right. His cheeks are red, and his eyes are glazed over. Elizabeth delicately took the mug of ale from him despite the dwarf's protests. 

"Me thinks you've had too much to drink," Elizabeth told him, eyebrow arched in amusement. "No more ale for you," she wagged a finger in his direction, giving him a no nonsense look. 

"Boo!" Kili shouted at her for taking away his ale. 

"Boo!" Fili, and Ori echoed. 

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and dodged Bofur and Nori who were wrestling over a chain of sausages. "Excuse me," she murmured to Dwalin, and Balin as she passed. She stepped into the hallway and saw Bilbo glaring furiously up at Gandalf. 

"I don't want to get use to them!" The hobbit hissed, hands on his hips and his hazel eyes fierce. "The state of my kitchen! There's mud trod into the carpet, they've pi-pillaged the pantry. I'm not even going to tell you what they've done in the bathroom; they've all but destroyed the plumbing. I don't understand what they're doing in my house," Bilbo finished, looking like he was ready to pull his hair out. 

Gandalf didn't look offended in the slightest, in fact, he looked pleased by Bilbo standing up for himself. Elizabeth wondered if that was what the wizard had been waiting for this whole time. "Uh, excuse me, Miss Morgan." 

A slight tug at her shoulder, and she looked down slightly at Ori who stood beside. Ori appeared to be the younger end of the group, and he, too, bore several braids in his hair. She also noticed his eye traveling to the book shelf on more than one occasion. "Yes, Master Ori?" Elizabeth asked, her brows furrowing slightly. 

Ori's uncertain quailed when she remembered his name. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?" Ori asked, politely. 

Elizabeth opened her mouth to answer, when Fili popped out of nowhere. "Here you go, Ori, give it to me," Fili said, and took the plate. 

"Where did you come from? Seriously where did you come from?" Elizabeth looked around to find some conceivable place the dwarf could have popped up from but found none. Fili just grinned then tossed the plate to Kili who threw it behind his back to Bifur. Biblo looked like someone had just killed his puppy. His mouth dropped open, and his eyes about to bulge out of his head. It only got worse when all the dwarves started to participate and tossing their plates and dishes through the air. Elizabeth stood there, in awe and shock at how effortlessly the dwarves worked together with a swiftness she hadn't known dwarves could possess. 

"Oh!" Gandalf ducked to avoid a plate. 

Elizabeth pressed her back against the wall to avoid a glass and knife. Bilbo was running around in an attempt to stop the chaos. "Excuse me, that's my mother's West Farthing crockery, it's over a hundred years old!" Bilbo shouted, trying to jump up and catch the dishes, but failing. The dwarves at the table begin rhythmically drumming on the table with utensils and their fists. The hobbit whirled around on them. "And can you not do that? You'll blunt them!" The hobbit complained. Elizabeth pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to hold back a deep, belly laugh. 

"Ooh, d'hear that, lads? He says we'll blunt the knives," Bofur laughed loudly, his strange hat tilting forward ever so slightly. 

Kili got a mischievous smile on his face, and opened his mouth. Elizabeth had expected a joking comment, and was totally caught off surprise when he started to sing. His voice was rich, and full of laughter. 

" _Blunt the knives, bend the forks,_

 _Smash the bottles and burn the corks!"_

Elizabeth started laughing. She couldn't hold it any longer as all the dwarves picked up the rhythm and started singing along. Her heart lightened in a way that she couldn't remember it being lightened, and she felt Fili's hands grab hers. The next thing she knew she was pulled into a fast pace dance. She followed Fili's movements, watching to mirror his steps as she was pulled around and around. Fili took over, his voice deeper and more mature than his brother's. 

" _Chip the glasses and crack the plates,_

 _That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"_

She let out a loud startled laugh as Fili twirled her around in his arms. During the dance, her gaze flickered towards the window and she could have sworn she saw two blue eyes staring in, but before she could get a better look, Bofur stepped in a stole her away from Fili. Bofur's dancing was more wild and free where Fili's had been more graceful and smooth like he had been taught whereas Bofur must have taught himself. Nonetheless, Elizabeth was still enjoying herself. "Come on, Bilbo!" She urged the hobbit to join in. She couldn't remember a time where she had enjoyed herself more. 

Bilbo resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at her. _This is not proper. Not proper at all,_ he thought stiffly and tried to catch some of his plates and silverware but the dwarves were initially throwing it out of his reach. 

_"Cut the cloth and tread on the fat,_

_Leave the bones on the bedroom mat,_

_Pour the milk on the pantry floor."_

"Splash the wine on every door!" Elizabeth contributed, with a laugh and Bofur gave her a wink. The next thing she knew she was being swept up by Nori. It was easy to remember Nori because of the star like style to his hair, though it was not fairly easy to keep an eye on him. She easily lost him in the crowd of dwarves, more than once. 

_"Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl,_

_Pound them up with a thumping pole,_

_When you've finished, if any are whole,_

_Send them down the hall to roll!"_

Bilbo rises with anger, raced around the corner to see what damage they did to his dishes only to slump down in shock at the neatly and clean stack of dishes. Not a single one of the chipped. 

_"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!"_

The dwarves and Gandalf laugh. Elizabeth stumbled, holding onto Nori while laughing breathlessly. She gasped out between her laughs, "That was amazing!" Bilbo shot her a dry look, to which she gave him a guilty smile. That's when three loud ominous knocks on the door, that caused all the laughter to fall into a sobering silence. Elizabeth could literally feel a weight in the air pressing down upon all over them. Gandalf's smile faded, and his grey eyes were weary which put her even more on edge. 

"He is here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER! You all knew it was going to end there, didn't ya? :D
> 
>  
> 
> Elvish Translations:  
> 1.) "Manen le, mellyn nin?" - (How are you, my friend?)  
> 2.) "Im maer." - (I'm fine)  
> 3.) Aldanniel-Ascender
> 
>  
> 
> Timeline:  
> 2746: Thorin Oakenshield is born.  
> 2770: The Sack of Erebor. (Smaug has driven the dwarves from Erebor and slaughtered hundred.)  
> 2779: Battle of Azanulbizar (also known as the Battle of Nanduhirion and the Battle of Dimrill Dale) happens.  
> 2851, Third Age: Elizabeth arrives in Middle Earth.  
> 2853, TA: Elizabeth is rescued by Elrond and Glorfindel.  
> 2890, September 22: Bilbo is born.  
> 2911, Third Age: Elizabeth meets Bungo, Belladonna, and Bilbo during the Fell Winter. (Events will be added, as the story progresses to keep the timeline straight.)  
> 2941: The Current Year.  
> Events will be added as the story goes along.


	6. Of Contracts and Funeral Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin Oakenshield has arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for the kudos!  
> And a special thanks to KD for commenting.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nope, Hobbit is not mine. If it were than Thorin, Kili, and Fili would not die. They would live! THEY WOULD LIVE! But sadly, I don't own Hobbit. But I write this fanfic for amusement, and I hope all you will enjoy it.  
> Summary: A mistake as a child leaves Elizabeth cursed, and if she falls…so shall the Durin line.  
> Pairings: Eventual Thorin/OC, Biblo/? (I am open to suggestions on Bilbo's pairing since I haven't anything in mind yet.)  
> Verse: It will be a mixture of the book and movie, but probably will lean more towards the movie since it's the one I know most about. I've only read half of the book so far.  
> Warning: Eventual nightmares, torture, sexual themes and more
> 
> NOTICE: The One Ring shall be dealt with. I will not leave it open ended, or merely not dealt with. Also it will not be a quick pop to Mordor and all is said and done. I am already working on it with the Lotr trilogy, movie and books, and it will be several chapters, but it's all going to say in one story. Also, certain dates will be changed due to plot needs, and with be marked in the timeline with a ** so there will not be any confusion with canon.

CHAPTER SIX 

"Contracts and Funeral Arrangements"

2851 

Unknown Location

Elizabeth did not make a sound. Making noise made them hear her, made them come closer and in the dark stone room there were many shadows from which they could spawn. The only light was through a barred hole in the ceiling so far above, too high for her to reach. Her knees were drawn to her chest, and her back was pressed against metals bars that left little doubt to where she was. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she wiped the snot running from her nose on her sleeve. Her body hurt. The monster had taking a liking to clawing at her with its long, sharp nails, and he would laugh as she cringed or cried. When she did neither of those things, he would pat her head like she was dog or a pet. She could hear the others monsters, their squeals and disgusting laughter as screams of pain and agony echoed across the stone walls. 

She pressed her palms to her ears trying to drown out the noise, while she clenched her eyes closed thinking hard about her mother holding her tight. She could almost feel it if she thought really hard about it. But the imaginary embrace could not ease the lump of fear that was permanently stuck in her throat, and she shivered violently. The walls were hard and cold, and…evil. This place was evil. She knew it. The feeling crawled along the walls, moved within the floors, and sometimes when it was quiet, she swore she could hear an oily whisper in her ears. The evil was coming from some deep, dark place that she couldn't see. A place she hoped she'd never see. 

Her teeth chattered as she tried to pull the tore and ripped shirt around her for warmth and she curled into herself, wishing for nothing more than to wake up from this nightmare. She even pinched herself until her arms were covered in whelps, but it didn't help. Her eyes lids began to droop, exhaustion winning over her self-preservation when she jolted at a long bang echoing from the corridor. She sat there, froze by fear and heard footsteps shuffling towards her. They came out of the shadows, the monsters. 

Their skin like leather and face contorted in pain and anger. Their eyes were beady and black and soulless. The two lumbered forward, their armor clinking with the effort, past her cell carrying something, but Elizabeth knew not what it was. She ducked her head down and tried to make herself as invisible as possible. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her lungs felt agonizingly tight and she clenched her eyes closed. _No more! Please no more!_ Her mind cried out, and she pressed her face painfully into the wall wishing nothing more than to become one with it. 

But the monster did not come in, instead they moved to the cell next to hers and ripped the door open and threw something in. Elizabeth twisted her head ever so slightly when the cell door slid closed, and in the center of the room on his knees hunched over, his face pressed against the dirty floor. He looked like a wild man, with his long frizzy hair that stuck out in all directions and his body shuddered with each painstaking breath. 

For a moment, Elizabeth sat there motionless too stunned to move or make noise. The monsters stood at the cell door for several moments, before tossing a piece of mold bread into her cell. It landed on the cell floor and she could hear the scurrying feet of rats rush towards the food. She heard them speak to one another, their language felt like broken shards of glass against her ears, and she swore she saw the glimmer of teeth flash in the darkness. She tensed, and held her breath. More words were exchanged and the words 'Azog'—a word she heard often-was used. The two monster then quickly shuffled away, but not before tossing another piece of moldy bread into the cell next to hers. Elizabeth sat there, as still as a statue and waited until she could no longer hear them before she allowed herself to breath again. 

Taking desperate gulps of air, Elizabeth trembled and looked into the other cell. There was strange feeling inside of her chest, perhaps like hope. She wasn't alone anymore. It had been such a long time since she had anything, but the company of monsters. A long time since she had anything, but pain. She found herself planting her feet against the floor, kicking away the rats that attempt to bite or scurry across her feet. She stood and slowly and softly padded across the icy cold floor. Her breaths came in sharp, greedy gasp as fear prickled along her spine. She stopped at the bars that separated her and this other person. 

"Hello?" Her voice was barely audible, and her fingers tightened on the bars. Her eyes were narrowed, trying to peer through darkness and into the cell next to hers. For a moment, everything was silent. Too silent. Then two great hands reached through the bars, and grabbed her without warning. A scream was lodged in her throat, as the vice grip tightened around her neck. She found herself face to face with a wild man. His violent blue eyes filled with an agonizing madness, and he cursed and yelled in hard, deep language that made little sense to her ears. He shook her like she was a rag doll, and had it not been for the hold he had on her neck, her head would have been snapping around wildly. Black spots danced around her vision, and the choked noise escaped her throat painfully. Her heart thumped hard against in her ribcage, its beat rising with the onslaught of panic. 

Her fingernails dug into his hands that seemed as hard as stone, and she felt hot tears running down her face. Her tongue curled to make desperate pleas, but the mad man seemed not to care about the pain he put her in. It felt like she was dying. She was certain that this was what dying was when suddenly, he let go. 

She felt backwards, landing on her backside with more than a little force and hungrily sucked in the stale air. Her finger came up to hold her throat that throbbed painfully while her wide eyes stared up at the man who stood lifeless on the other side of the bars. His mouth was agape, and his eyes looked devastated as if he had just realized something horrible. For a moment, he looked completely sane then as swiftly as the sanity had come back, it was just as swiftly taken. She saw the madness consume his eyes and he turned away from her to pace his cell, muttering under his breath. 

Elizabeth crawled back to her dismal cot, shaken and pale. Her heart felt like it had burst out of her chest, and her body felt as if she had just ran a mile long race. She slumped against the smelly cot and placed her hands over her ears to shut out his mad mumbling and closed her eyes tightly trying to shut out the rest of the world too. 

* * *

2941 

The Shire

Bag End was silent, like a tomb which was an entirely disturbing thought if Elizabeth did say so herself. Her lips were pressed together, all traces of laughter and merriment dissipating into something far more unsettling. The three knocks still echoed in her ears, and she stared at Gandalf who looked very grave. "He is here," the wizard announced. 

For a moment, no one spoke or moved. It was like everything had frozen, and a wave of unease moved through the room and everyone in it. Elizabeth's muscles were tight, and coiled, her pulse jumping in her throat. "Bilbo, Elizabeth, with me if you please," Gandalf gestured for them to follow him. The hobbit and the woman in question shared a wary look. Bilbo looked hesitant while Elizabeth seemed uncertain. It made her remember…unpleasant things being surrounded like this. The two shuffled behind the wizard dutifully, and Elizabeth felt her heart thumping in her chest as they drew closer and closer to the door. 

There was the feeling in the air, like an electric spark and she had this feeling in the pit of her stomach that by opening this door her life would irrevocably change. The wizard's hand landed on the handle, and Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath. Gandalf pulled the door open, and Elizabeth was instantly caught off guard. When she pictured this late dwarf, she had pictured many things and all of them were wrong. So _very_ wrong. He was not like Dwalin, nor Balin, not like Fili, not like any of the other dwarves. 

This dwarf was… _striking._

His hair was as black as a moonless night, like the color of a ravens wing with a few veins of silver streaking through it. It was long and flowed down his back stopping a few inches below his shoulders, while a short and trimmed beard covered his chin. A cloak with a fur collar was draped over his shoulders, and she caught the glint of armor upon his breast. "Gandalf," he spoke, his voice was like thunder. A soft rumble, a warning before the rain came pouring down. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice." 

He stepped into Bag End, and his sheer presence encompassed the hallway, a sort of majestic magnetism that just flowed off of him in waves. There was something regal about the way he held himself, as if he had the weight of the worlds resting upon his shoulders. A deep strength that she only encounter a handful of times in a handful of people. He was a warrior dressed in an impressive armor, and there was something that made her feel like everything in his life was hard won. And not just battles with a sword. He took off his cloak, and handed it over to Kili with an unconscious motion of trust. 

_So Kili knows this dwarf, and they trust each other._ Elizabeth noted, tapping her chin with a thoughtful expression. They also looked very similar, Kili and this dwarf named Thorin. They had to be related. She also noted that the dwarves as he passed, bowed to him. _He is also someone of great importance to garner such a reaction from the others._

He was a wall of muscle, the layers of clothing and armor could not hide it. His body had been built from years of labor and battles and Elizabeth did not doubt there were be a fair number of scars upon his skin. He looked at the wizard, a faint look of amusement or perhaps it was merely exasperation on his face. "Wouldn't have found it all if not been for the mark on the door," he said, turning in such a way that the life cascaded over him. 

"Mark? Oh, yes, _that_ mark!" The hobbit crossed his arms, and glared at the wizard. "I just painted that door a week ago, Gandalf!" 

Gandalf managed to look a tad contrite and sheepish, though Elizabeth believed that the wizard was far from apologetic. "Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company," the wizard easily evaded the argument. "Thorin Oakenshield." 

Thorin looked at Bilbo, tilting his head. His eyes was the color of the clouds of an oncoming storm, like the thunderclouds building up in the distance and he stared down his aristocratic nose at Bilbo. "So…this is the hobbit," Thorin murmured, looking Bilbo up and down clearly judging him. 

Bilbo looked a tad taken aback by Thorin's attitude which was in stark contrast to that of the other dwarves. Thorin was composed, indifferent and aloof where the other dwarves had been generally loud and openly polite for the most part. His hips rolled with the gait of a predator, circling Bilbo like a wolf circling his prey looking for a weak spot. Elizabeth straightened, her instincts to protect rising inside of her but a quelling look from Gandalf held her back. 

"Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?" Thorin questioned, his voice serious and rough. 

"Pardon me?" Bilbo blinked. 

Elizabeth shot Gandalf a look which the wizard ignored. 

"Axe or sword?" Thorin asked, quickly. "What is your weapon of choice?" 

Bilbo had no weapon of choice. Even though Elizabeth taught him the basic of a sword several years ago before he came of age, he outright refused to wield one. Did Gandalf promise them someone who could fight? The hobbit looked over at her for a moment before answering, "Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that's relevant." 

Thorin snorted, a sardonic tilt to his lips. "Thought as much," the dwarf said, his blue eyes looking down at Bilbo coolly. "He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." 

"And you look more like an ass than a dwarf," Elizabeth snapped, before she could help it. Gandalf just let out a little groan, as series of gasps of outrage or shock from behind her and the dwarf in question head snapped towards her. 

Thorin's blue eyes narrowed as they swept over her. It was when he was this close that Elizabeth realized his eyes weren't only the color of an oncoming storm, but they held flecks of brilliant sapphire and vivid shades of lapis lazuli, too. They were staring at one another, and to her shock, he didn't take his gaze from hers, not for one second, not like everyone else who shied away from her unnatural eyes. No, his gaze pressed in on her and she felt something shift in the air as if binding them together in some ancient ritual she did not understand. 

Thorin looked at her, an angry tilt to his head, and she was instantly reminded of a wolf that had come across an exceedingly stupid deer. "What did you just say?" His voice low and full over warning as he stepped closer to her. 

Everything was so silent in Bag End, if a pin had been dropped the sound would have been deafening. Elizabeth fought the urge to shift nervously underneath such a piercing gaze, and clenched her jaw. She had faced wargs, orcs and looked death in the face several times. She would not allow herself to be intimidated by a dwarf. "Unless your hearing is impaired like your sense of direction, then you know exactly what I said," Elizabeth stated, a tight mocking smile upon her lips and if looks could kill she would be a pile of ashes by now. 

"I did not know, Gandalf, that you kept such uncouth company," Thorin addressed the wizard, instead of her. A way of insulting her, she supposed. 

"No more uncouth than you. What kind of man with manners, or propriety would insult their host on the doorstep of his house?" Elizabeth shot back. 

"Enough," the wizard said, his voice echoing through the room. Immediately Thorin and Elizabeth both fell quiet, neither of them stupid enough to enrage the wizard further. "You'd both do well to remember your manners," Gandalf stated, scolding the pair and shooting them both a stern look. "Thorin Oakenshield, this is Elizabeth Morgan, a most trusted friend of mine." 

Thorin straightened his shoulders, and looked at Elizabeth coolly. "You made no mention of her before now," Thorin stated, shooting Gandalf a flat look. The muscles in his throat were corded and tight with tension, and the vindictive part of Elizabeth hoped he got a migraine. The uptight rude jerk deserved it. "Do not tell me you expect me to bring this… _woman_ with us?" He said, with no small amount of anger in his words. 

"Woman?" Elizabeth glared, but Gandalf gave her a pointed look. She bit the inside of her cheek, and crossed her arms over her chest. 

"It was a most pleasant surprise to find her here," Gandalf commented, carefully. Thorin gave a snort at the word pleasant, and Elizabeth bristled shooting him a dark look. "Elizabeth can be trusted if that is your concern," the wizard stated, confidently. "And she is no mere maiden, and you'd be mistaken to take her for one." 

Thorin caught the warning in the wizard's voice, and he cocked his head ever so slightly. He craned his head to look at Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye. "Indeed?" Thorin appeared skeptical. His eyes raked over her, and it felt like a physical touch that brushed her skin. It took everything in her not to give an outward reaction, instead her hand came to rest on the hilt of her sword that was set up against the wall. The feel of weapon gave her a measure of comfort. His eyes followed the gesture, and his lips twitched into a faint sardonic smile that was almost gone as quickly as it appeared. "And what of you Miss…Morgan, was it?" He asked, his voice carrying a deep and rough timber. "What is your weapon of choice?" 

Elizabeth's eyes flickered at Gandalf who was admiring a painting on the wall, and her hands clenched tightly. Instead of giving a straight forward answer, she asked with a sharp smile, "Do you think this sword if just for show?" 

"Having a sword means nothing if you don't know how to use it," Thorin stated, arching a brow and looking ultimately unimpressed. 

Elizabeth's eyes widened, comprehending his derisive statement. Thorin's blue eyes were cutting as his face was impassive as the mountain's mighty face. _You asshole,_ Elizabeth thought, just itching to strangle this man, and by the disgruntled expression on Bilbo's face she was not the only one with the urge to do so. "I assure you, Mister Oakenshield, that I know how to use a sword quite well," Elizabeth said, with a tight and sarcastic smile as her eyes burned into Thorin's. "Why don't you bend over and I'll show you?" 

Thorin's smirk fell while there were a couple of dwarves who choked on laughter (probably Fili and Kili, maybe Nori too) from the other room as well as several gasps. Gandalf coughed to smother a chuckle and stepped into be mediator. "Elizabeth," the wizard gave her a pointed look, "I believe you saved some food for Mister Oakenshield." 

Elizabeth stared at Thorin for a moment longer before looking over at the wizard. She gave him a dry look that clearly said, _Do I have to?_ The wizard sent her a tired, and pointed look in return. She twisted her head back towards Thorin with a snakelike grace and her eyes ran across him from his head to his toes before she heaved a sigh. "Yes, we did…though now I wish we had fed it to the raccoons, at least they would be more polite," she said, the last part in a whisper. But in the silence, it was heard by all. Kili let out a laugh before he caught himself, and he ducked his head when Thorin shot him a stern look. 

"You can have a seat in the dining room unless you'll have trouble finding your way there, too," Elizabeth said, spinning around on her heel and headed towards the pantry. Behind her, she heard the word 'insolent' and 'wench' come out of Thorin's mouth, and it made her smirk. She uncovered the plate of food, and headed towards the dining room. Thorin, of course, settled at the head of the table and looked like he belonged there. She had to resist the urge to drop unceremoniously but she knew Bilbo wouldn't appreciate that kind of damage to his mother's good china so she set it gently in front of the dwarf. 

His blue eyes shot up to hers, and his lips twisted ever so slightly. With great reluctance, he managed to spit out a very insincere, "My thanks." 

"You're welcome," she replied, smoothly. Half of her was tempted to call him an arrogant ass, but a sharp look from Gandalf managed to curb her tongue. At least, partially. "Though your thanks should go to Bilbo. He is the one who cooked." 

[ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/hobbittrailer02-033_zps1105444b.jpg.html)  


Those blue eyes of his were unfathomable and unreadable, like a deep abyss that was filled with too much yet nothing at the same time. Elizabeth moved away, not willing to let him see how much his mere presence unnerved her. It was the strange feeling she had gotten when she had met Kili and Fili, only ten times stronger. A chord of familiarity struck somewhere in her memory though she could not place it to save her life. 

The other dwarves had settled back in their seats, their jovial and joyous assertiveness had become a silent somberness that weighed heavily in the dining room. Bilbo half missed the loudness, though he would never admit such a thing out loud. The hobbit threw a glance at Elizabeth who stood off to the side. Bilbo came to stand beside her, for her reassurance or his, he was not sure. After Thorin ate a few bites, downing them a drink of ale did Balin break the tense silence. "What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?" Balin asked, his voice quiet and his eyes uncertain. "Did they all come?" 

"Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms," Thorin confirmed. While the other dwarves murmured in joy, Elizabeth couldn't help but notice a line of tension that ran along Thorin's shoulders. Apparently the news he carried was not good news at all. 

"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?" Dwalin asked, his face carefully blank. 

"They will not come," Thorin stated. The mood in the room dropped, and the heavy weight of the atmosphere pressed down upon with her an almost crushing weight now. Elizabeth swallowed thickly, drawing in a long breath but it did not satisfy her lungs. He continued, his voice even and his face giving away nothing, "They say this quest is ours, and ours alone." 

"You're going a quest?" Bilbo paused, his eyes lit up with interest despite himself. 

Elizabeth smothered a grin, while Gandalf cleared his throat. "Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light," the wizard smiled at him kindly. 

Bilbo nodded. "Right, of course," the hobbit said, and he shuffled out of the room. He returned only a second later with a candle in hand. As he sets in on the table, Gandalf pulled out an old piece of parchment from his robe and spreads it on the table revealing a map. All the dwarves lean forward for a glance, and Elizabeth did so too. "Far to the East, over the ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak," Gandalf spoke, his voice deep and enchanting. 

"The Lonely Mountain…" Bilbo read the map. 

"Erebor," Elizabeth recalled the name faintly, her brows furrowing ever so slightly. The name invoked images of grandeur, of a kingdom that had risen above all other. Of large vaulted ceilings crafted out a stone and gems, and a fountain of gold and silver. An image of a star-shaped mountain, with six rides stretching out from a central peak as she traced the drawing on the map with her eyes. 

Thorin shot her a look, his brows pinched. 

"Aye. Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time," Gloin said, his eyes brimming with excitement. The others let out grumbled, and a few eye rolls. "Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold," Oin nodded, fiddling with his ear trumpet. "When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end." 

"Uh," Bilbo looked concern, "What beast?" 

"Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age," Bofur stated, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals-" 

"Dragon," Elizabeth breathed out the word. Images of flames and death passed before her eyes, and the beast from her nightmare emerged with a startling clarity that left her shaken. "You lot intend to fight a bloody dragon," she said, looking at all of them unsure if she admiring their bravery or deem them all utterly insane. 

"I'm not afraid!" Ori shouted, jumping to his feet. His young face the picture of determination. "I'm up for it. I'll give him a taste of Dwarfish iron right up his jacksie." That caused several other dwarves to shout their approval. 

Dori however was not amused, his face paling at the very thought. "Sit down!" He snapped, jerking on his little brothers shirt. Ori sat down, looking a tad put out then annoyed when Dori proceeded to fret upon him. Nori was worried too, but he was more subtle about it by coming to stand behind his younger brother. 

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest," Balin commented, his hands clasped on the table in front of him. His comment, needless to say, was not well received by the present company for out cries from all around the table were heard. 

"Hey, who are you calling dim?" 

"Watch it!" 

"No!" 

"What did he say?" Oin asked, his face scrunching up in confusion. He fiddled with his ear trumpet in an attempt to hear better. 

"We may be few in number, but we're fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!" Fili stated, proudly puffing out his chest. It reminded Elizabeth a bit of male peacock stuttering around, or a lion cub trying to valiantly roar only to fall short of its mark. 

Elizabeth hummed in her throat, her eyes tracing the dragon drawing above the Lonely Mountain and her heart tightened painfully in her chest. "You all have heart, I will give you that," Elizabeth said, her voice soft, but grave. There was an unsettled tilt to her mouth and her right hand twitched. "But heart will only take you so far." 

"And what would you know of such matters?" Thorin asked, callously. His blue eyes cut into her, a silent challenge lingering in the air. The shadows played across his face in an enticing way, highlighting his high swept cheek bones and the two braids down with silver clasps hung on either side of his face, enhancing the strong angles of his jaw. 

"More than I care to," Elizabeth stated, her voice not mocking nor bitter. It was simple, matter of fact and it caused a indention to appear as Thorin's furrowed brow, the briefest flash of surprise flickering through his gaze. Those nightmares about the dwarves…the beast…the flames…She shot a questioning glance at Gandalf, but the wizard was carefully avoiding her gaze. 

"But we have a wizard in our company!" Kili shouted suddenly, rising slightly from his chair. He tossed Gandalf a confident smile. "Gandalf will have killed hundred of dragons in his time!" 

"Oh, well, now, uh, I-I-I wouldn't say that," Gandalf flushed, and it occurred to Elizabeth that she had never seen him this flustered before. What she would give to have a camera to preserve this moment, and have that blackmail material. 

"How many?" Dori inquired. 

"Uh, what?" Gandalf blinked. Elizabeth let herself take in the wizard's blush with amused smile, and did not bother to hide it. With a mind of their own, her eyes drifted back to Thorin and her lips twisted downward in a delicate frown. There was a hum in the back of her mind, like something she needed to remember every time her gaze fell upon Thorin. Like she was missing something vitally important, that was just on the tip of her tongue yet lost to her. 

"Well, how many dragons have you killed?" Dori asked, his face anxious. "Go on, give us a number!" 

Gandalf coughed embarrassed, and fiddled with his pipe. Elizabeth closed her eyes, feeling the beginning a of a headache as the dwarves shot to their feet, and shouted angrily. Elizabeth watched on, with a detached sort of expression. Thorin's expression is pinched, and the lines around his eyes tightened. He leapt to his feet, and brought down a fist on the table. Elizabeth jumped back, surprise and shock written on her face as she stared at the dwarf as if he had just lost his mind. Bilbo flinched back startled and took a step closer to Gandalf. 

"Shazara!" Thorin bellowed, and everyone fell silent. 

Thorin drew in a deep breath, composing himself. He stood to his full height, meeting all of the dwarves eyes and he began, his voice strong and willful, "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing…wondering…weighing the risk." His eyes were filled with such depth, and a deep, painful longing. A need to find home, to find what it meant to belong once more. Elizabeth felt a ripple of surprise run through her because she had seen that expression before, it was one she knew all too well. Her lips were parted in surprise as she stared at him, and he looked like a man who was carrying the weight of the past and future upon his shoulders. It looked like a heavy burden. 

"Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours?" Thorin's jaw clenched, his voice rising and he raised his clenched fist. "Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!" He roared, and the group cheered. 

Balin however had a pensive look in his eyes. "You forget," Balin commented, softly after the cheers died down, "the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain." 

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true," Gandalf stepped forward, his hand slipping into his robe. Delicately he pulled out an ornate dwarvish key. 

Thorin's face fell and he looked stricken. Wonder, hope and so much pain was in his gaze, and Elizabeth felt a pang in her chest at that look. "How came you by this?" His voice is rough with emotion, and Elizabeth swallowed thickly. It felt like she was intruding on an entirely private and painful moment for him, and she looked away as if to give him some privacy. 

"It was given to me by your father…by Thrain," Gandalf commented, softly. "For safekeeping, it is yours now." 

He held out the key, and Thorin took it slowly as if he feared it would disappear the moment he touched it. When it didn't, his hand curled around it possessively and he held it close to him staring down at as if it could answer all the questions swarming in his heart. His face was so bare with emotion in that moment that, but with great effort, Thorin schooled his features to become less caring and entirely detached. _As a leader must be,_ Elizabeth thought silently. It was quite a disconcerting feeling being torn between loathing the man and admiring him at the same time. 

"If there's a key, there must be a door," Fili murmured, a smile on his face and his eyes alit with wonder. 

Gandalf pointed at the runes on the map. "These runes speak of hidden passage to the lower halls," the wizard stated, with a half grin. 

"There's another way in," Kili said, a tad breath with amazement clearly written in his eyes. 

Elizabeth bit her lip, forcing herself not to smile at the brothers. It was official, dwarves liked to state the obvious. "Aren't dwarf doors invisible when closed? Like they blend in with the rocks or something?" Elizabeth asked, out loud. Everyone looked at her, and she paused under all those eyes feeling a tad put on the spot. "What? I can't know that?" She asked, wide eyed at all the stares. 

"Indeed, they are," Gandalf said, saving her. "The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle Earth who can. That task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage," the wizard comment, shooting a look over at Bilbo who was still focused on the map as if to memorize it. "But if we are careful and clever, I believe it can be done." 

"That's why we need a burglar," Oin stated. 

"Hm. A good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine," Bilbo stated, half-heartedly. 

"And are you?" Gloin asked. 

"Am I what?" Bilbo blinked confused. 

Elizabeth froze, then turned to look at Gandalf. "Gandalf the Grey you can't possible think," she began, her voice low and filled with more than a little bit of venom however she was cut off by Oin. 

"He said he's an expert!" Oin shouted, with his poor hearing thought he had Bilbo say such a thing. 

"He most certainly did not!" Elizabeth said, fiercely. 

"I did not!" Bilbo gasped, horrified. 

Laughter echoed around the dining room. Bilbo's eyes widened, and Elizabeth glared at the wizard. The hobbit stuttered out, "M-me? Burglar? No! No, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar; Ive never stolen a thing in my life! I am not a burglar," he stressed every word so there would be no misunderstandings this time. 

"I'm afraid I have to agree," Balin said, not unkindly. "Mr. Baggins is hardly burglar material." 

Bilbo nodded in agreement, which made Elizabeth frown hard. She looked at her friend, and wondered if he truly did not know his true merit. He could be damn sneaky when he wanted to be, and he had stolen plenty things. Of course nothing as extravagant as jewels or coin, and certainly not from a dragon but that didn't meant that Bilbo could snatch a bracelet off of someone's very wrist while looking them in the eye the entire time without them knowing. He had done that to Lobelia, twice. 

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," Dwalin concurred with his brother. 

Bilbo pointed at Dwalin, and nodded in agreement. Elizabeth threw him a strange glance. Did he not recall the hell he had survived during the Fell Winter? And the things he dealt with in the aftermath? She rubbed her fingers against the palm of her right hand that tingled painfully, and looked away from the hobbit. Bilbo lacked such faith in himself was really heartbreaking. 

Kili glowered slightly at Dwalin. "I think he'll be fine!" 

Fili nodded, while Dori shook his head muttering. All the dwarves were throwing their opinions around loudly trying to speak over the other. Elizabeth noticed that Bifur was making hand gestures and she picked up on a few things that were less than polite about Bilbo. Each passing second, Elizabeth felt a tension rose within her, threatening to boil over like a whitehot volcano. Her muscles tightened and corded and tensed and she drew in a deep breath. "Enough!" She shouted, and instantly the room went quiet in shock at her outburst. Even Gandalf had jumped, though he would deny it later when asked. 

Bilbo's eyes widened, and he stared at Elizabeth in shock. Her spine was straightened drawing herself to her full height, and stared down her nose at all the dwarves with a tight, no nonsense expression reminding him of an ice queen in old story his mother used to tell him when he was a child. He had only seen Elizabeth look this way one other time, and it wasn't something he like to dwell on it. 

Elizabeth looked at all the dwarves, her gaze falling on Thorin lastly. "Whether or not, Bilbo chooses to join you is entirely up to him," Elizabeth stated, firmly. "However, I've known that Bilbo for a long time and he is by no means helpless. He has survived things that no one should have to go through. There is a great deal more to him than you know, and you'd be damn lucky to have him on your side. He'd make an excellent burglar, given the chance." 

Bilbo looked torn between being touched by her faith in him, and being annoyed that she put him on the spot like that. She probably would have laughed if thing had been less serious, but she didn't laugh nor did her lips quirk into any semblance of a smile. She kept her face carefully held in place, as her stomach twisted into violent knots. Stormy blue eyes rooted her to the spot, as if weighing the worth of her words. 

"Indeed," Gandalf took over, his eyes twinkling madly. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they so choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage." The wizard shot Thorin a look, and he said, "You must trust me on this." His lips twisted down into a frown, a grudging reluctance flickering through across his before he let out a sigh and twisted away from Elizabeth dismissing her. "Very well. We will do it your way," he stated, despite Bilbo protesting 'no, no, no' behind him. "Give him the contract." 

"Uh…please, no," Bilbo stated, but Balin handed the contract over to Thorin who practically shoved it over his shoulder at Bilbo. Bilbo stumbled back, grasping at the piece of paper with a stricken expression on his face. 

"Alright!" Bofur cheered. "We're off!" 

"It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration funeral arrangements, so forth," Balin commented, trying to ease the hobbit's worries. 

"Funeral arrangements?" Bilbo looked at Elizabeth. 

"Adventures…have their hazards," Elizabeth admitted, and gave him a half smile. Her eyes flickered to Thorin who rose from his seat, and leaned towards Gandalf. 

"I cannot guarantee their safety," Thorin stated, gravely. 

"Understood," the wizard gave a sharp nod. 

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate," Thorin said, his expression was so hard that it looked like it was carved out of marble instead of flesh. 

"Just his fate?" Gandalf said, faintly surprised and perhaps a little amused. 

Thorin paused, then glared at the wizard. "Nor will I be responsible for the girl's," Thorin added, darkly with a sneer. Elizabeth barely contained the roll of her eyes, and crossed her arms over her chest. She could take of herself. With all she had endured, she had made damn well certain that she could do that. 

The grey wizard eyed the dwarf for a good moment before nodding. "Agreed," Gandalf said, before turning to face the hobbit. Bilbo was walking around while reading off the contract outloud. 

"Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair," he murmured, unaware of all the eyes upon his back. "Eh, present company…shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations…evisceration…incineration?" Bilbo's voice rose filled with incredulity. He spun around swiftly, and sent Elizabeth a sharp look. "This?" He wagged the contract in the air. "This is what you meant by adventures are hazardous?" 

"Well," Elizabeth flushed, "to be fair, I've never dealt with dragons before so…uh, I can't be an expert on what kind of injuries they could dish out. I mean…you could get burnt…a lot?" She said, with an unhelpful half smile and shrug of her shoulders. 

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," Bofur added, a little bit too cheery for such a grim subject. 

"Huh?" Bilbo blinked. 

"That's a disturbing mental picture," Elizabeth said, her nightmare once again in the forefront in her mind. The color blanching out of her face, and she saw that Bilbo wasn't fairing much better. 

"You all right, laddie?" Balin inquired. 

Bilbo bent over, taking a deep breath. He looked a bit green, and pained. The contract trembling between his fingers. "Uh, yeah…feel a bit faint is all," the hobbit said, breathlessly. 

"Think of a furnace with wings," Bofur added. 

"Air…I need air," Bilbo said, breathlessly. 

"Flasf of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of ash," Bofur continued on oblivious to what he was doing to the poor hobbit. 

"Bofur," Elizabeth said, sternly. 

"Ah…" Bofur paused, seeming to realize that perhaps his descriptions weren't helping at all. 

"Hmmm…" Bilbo wobbled on his feet. "Nope." His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and Elizabeth saw his knees buckle beneath him. She rushed forward, and grabbed him just before he hit the floor. Lowering him slowly, she knelt down on her knees and checked over him worriedly. 

"Bilbo?" She reached up, tapping his cheek with the palm of her hand. "Bilbo?" She asked, again lightly shaking him. 

"Ah, very helpful, Bofur," Gandalf grumbled. 

Bofur gave a helpless shrug. Dwalin snorted, while Dori scolded Nori for laughing. Kili stretched his neck to see over Ori's head, and asked, "Is he going to be alright?" 

"He'll be fine," Elizabeth said. Her face was full of concern, and she ran a hand gently through Bilbo's curls. His face was still pale, and there was furrow of worry to his brow. "I think…." 

* * *

Elizabeth and Gandalf took Bilbo into the sitting room, setting him in the chair. His eyelashes fluttered, and his eyes cracked open with a little groan escaping his lips. He blinked rapidly several times before his gaze focused on Elizabeth. A relieved smile appeared on his lips, and Bilbo said, "Oh, Elizabeth, you won't believe the weirdest dream I just…" he trailed off when he saw Gandalf sitting in the other chair and his face fell. "Oh…what a nightmare…" 

If she had been a lesser person, she would have laughed. Elizabeth gave him a look of sympathy before shooting Gandalf a glare. The wizard merely blinked, looking completely innocent. Elizabeth snorted, and patted Bilbo on his shoulder before rising gracefully from the arm of the chair. "I think I should leave you two to talk," she commented. When the hobbit shot her a panicked look, she added with a snort, "Holler at me if you need me." 

"Will do," Bilbo said, meekly glaring at Gandalf. 

Elizabeth walked out of the room, and opened the hallway closet. In it were blankets, linen, and pillows. She gathered as much as she could in her hands, and began to set up places for all the dwarves to sleep. She put her whole focus on the task, trying to drown out all the talking, trying to allow herself to think. But the more she thought, the more and more she found she was not liking the idea of this adventure. Her stomach was aching tied in proverbial knots at the very idea and warning bells with ringing in her ears. 

Her hands shook as she neatly spread out the blanket on a couch that would have to serve as someone's bed. The dwarves scurrying around like ants, and she watched the fire cast their shadows against the walls. The flickering flame brew images of death inside of her skull. She sucked in a deep breath, the taste of ash upon her tongue and it made her shudder violently. Invisible flames wrapped around her finger tips, and the skin started to blotch red as if she really was holding it close to an open flame. The fire beast from her mind came into complete focus. A sharp image of a beast towering over her, with scales as red as blood and snake like eyes filled with so much hatred and malice. A dragon…it was a dragon. Did the story of Smaug the Terrible alter her memory of the dreams, or had the dream just become clearer now that she remembered? A layer of sweat broke out across her skin, and she felt sick to her stomach. Her felt like any second it would burst out of her chest, and a horrible epiphany hit her as the blanket slid out of her hand onto the floor. _Of course it did, stupid! This is what Gandalf meant about finding out the answers!_ The epiphany hit her like a punch to the gut. She stood up shakily and made her way through the throng of dwarves who were curiously examining the hobbit hole commenting on it's craftsmanship. She rounded the corner, and passed through Balin and Thorin with a soft, "Pardon me." 

Thorin watched her for a long moment, his blue eyes tracing along her until she rounded a corner and he heard the front door open and close. Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, life had not been an easy one by any means. One tragedy after another, and he had to keep his head high and continue to lead his people no matter what the cost may be. His blue eyes studied the hobbit hole, filled with knick knacks and warmth. It was quaint and simple, nothing like Erebor and yet it was home to this hobbit as Erebor was home to him. He would be a liar if he did not admit that the Shire's peaceful lands did not appeal to him, the prosperity that was here was one he had longed to see for his own kingdom one day. And while he admitted that, he also begrudged them their peace and plenty for it had taken him several years (practically a lifetime in the eyes of man) to provide that for his family, and his people. Years of moving from one place to the next with no steady job, or means of support. Years of being ridiculed and cheated through the ignorance of man and elves. He knew what it was like to be starved, he knew what it was like to be beaten down, he had been oh so weary, but he never broke. And he moved forward. The Blue Mountains were a blessing, and through hard work, he had built a new life for his Kingdom. 

But…the painful longing in his heart reminded him, the Blue Mountains were not home. Even now, after so many years that he had fought to make it so, it was not truly his. With the fall of Erebor, Thorin's power as King had also dwindled and the nobles who were once his grandfather's council had more say and power and it was their funds that helped make the Blue Mountains what they were today. A fact that they had constantly reminded him of, and a reason they protested so heavily on the quest for Erebor. If he reclaimed Erebor, Thorin would not have to rely so heavily on them and the council feared their loss in power. 

Thorin cared not. After so many years spent in exile, and roaming the lonely hills, he could practically taste the fresh mountain air. He could smell the scent of pine trees upon the breeze, and in his mind as clear as the day he left, he could see Erebor still standing tall. He was so close, and nothing would dissuade him now. Not even the other kingdom's refusal to come could crush his the hope that burned within his like a smoldering fire, instead it spurred him on with a defiant need to prevail where they all said he would fail. He looked at the thirteen dwarves that had answered his call, and watched them wander around the home with curious gleaming in their eyes. 

He had not been lost like he had claimed. He had arrived in front of Bag End, he had heard the laughter and merriment from inside, and he had not the heart to knock on the door right away. There would not be time for such frivolous things on the road, so he gave them a few more minutes of reprieve while he stood outside and gathered his thoughts. Or brood, as Kili was fond of pointing out often. He listened as Gandalf tried to persuade the hobbit to join the quest, and Thorin hoped the hobbit wouldn't join. 

This quest was not for the faint of heart. 

_"You all have heart, I will give you that. But heart will only take you so far."_ Thorin jerked ever so slightly, remembering the woman's words. A flicker of suspicion, of menace, crossed Thorin's brooding features as he glanced out the window. He could see her standing in the hobbit's yard, arms crossed over her chest and her shoulders hunched. She was a slight thing with the height of dwarf (she stood a few inches shorter than himself), but clearly a child of man by her lack of beard, and her limbs that were lithe and wiry, though he couldn't help to notice she did had the proper curves in all the right places. She was a classic beauty with a soft jaw, and high swept cheek bones pair with a tiny aquiline nose. She stood straight, her head held high with a sense of entitlement like someone of high birth however he doubted that. No nobility in their right mind would allow their daughter to run around dressed as a man, with a weapon upon her hip. 

Her eyes were the most startling thing about her though her attitude was a close second. They were startling shade of cobalt with specs of saxe lingering around them, and stems of dark black shooting out of her iris. There was this glow to them, an inner light and ring of yellow a gold hidden right at the edge of the iris like a well kept secret. They were beautiful, and entirely unnatural. Inhuman. He clutched the key tightly in his hand, shoving such thoughts away. He had no need of distractions, and that is all that woman would be on this journey. An unnecessary distraction. 

And Thorin felt his frustration towards her grow. What an irritating little thing she was underneath that sweet face, and innocent eyes. Her spirit was admirable, and he by no means thought women were subservient to men (if he ever made just a statement his sister would have his head and Erebor would have Queen instead of a King). However her attitude towards him in front of his men—men he was expected to lead—was utterly unacceptable. His face contorted in a dark look, and he turned away from her. His leaned back against the wall, crossing his ankles and appeared every bit of relaxed if it weren't for the hand that rested upon his sword. Dwalin stood off to his right, while Balin sat in a chair adjacent from him. 

Dwalin looked out the window at Elizabeth, then at Thorin cocking up an eyebrow. "Quite the little spitfire, isn't she?" He commented, with a slight smirk. 

Thorin glared darkly. 

"Oh, aye," Balin agreed, with a sly glint in his eye. "With a sharp tongue that would put many of our women to shame. The only other woman I seen with a quick wit combined with such a temper like that is Lady Dis." 

Thorin frowned, a guilt in his blue eyes. He would never forget how upset Dis had been when they had left, how she said she would never forgive him if they did not come back home alive, or how she would never forgive him if anything happened to her boys. He had taken his nephews with him without her blessing, and that hung upon his shoulders like an ever constant weight. "It matters not how sharp her tongue," Thorin intoned, the lines around his eyes tightening with annoyance. "I doubt she or the so called burglar will come. It will better that way. Our journey cannot afford such distractions." 

"So the woman would be a distraction?" Dwalin arched an eyebrow, his lips curling in amusement. Thorin gave him a flat look that told him that his amusement was not shared. "I wouldn't dismiss her so easily, Thorin. I have seen her with a bow." 

"You have?" Balin asked, surprised. 

"Aye." Dwalin nodded. "In the forest on my way here. She…uh, she caught me off guard," he admitted, a bit sheepish about that which cause Balin to chuckle and Thorin's lips to quirk upward ever so slightly. "But her aim was true. Shot a deer straight through the heart." 

"Hmm," Thorin tilted his head in consideration. 

"That's what I thought." A voice broke him out of his reprieve and he caught the hobbit's shadow cast on the wall of him rising from his seat. "Sorry. Gandalf. I can't sign this. You've got the wrong Hobbit." With that the Hobbit walked down the hall, and Thorin could hear the wizard sigh. 

"It appeared we've lost our burglar," Balin noted, with a deep sigh. "Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toy-makers; hardly the stuff of legend." 

"There are a few warriors amongst us," Dwalin commented. 

"Old warriors," Balin retorted. 

"I will take each and ever one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills," Thorin stated, strongly looking between his two long time friends. His head was raised, and his eyes were ablaze with determination. "For when I called upon them, they came. Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart." Thorin allowed his façade to fall for the brief of moments, and he looked at the group of dwarves with gratitude upon his face. "I can ask no more than that." 

"You don't have to do this. You have a choice," Balin said, feeling that it had to be said. "You've done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains, a life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor." Dwalin nodded in agreement. 

Thorin gave the lightest shake of his head, and held up the king that Gandalf gave him. "From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me. They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin," Thorin spoke, his voice firm and strong. "Not for me." 

Balin stared at him for a long moment before nodding. Dwalin clapped him on the shoulder, and said, "Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done." 

_Or we will die trying,_ Thorin thought, with a heavy heart. His eyes cast downward to the key clutched in his hand, and his resolved hardened like mithril. He had to succeed, he had no other choice and he would let nothing get in his way. 

* * *

Elizabeth stood staring up at the night sky. The wave of calm, and solace that the Shire air usually brought her did not come. Not one tiny ounce of respite flooded through her soul and she found herself pacing in front of the hobbit hole. Her eyes danced from the green door to the glowing symbol to fresh blooming flowers, but her thoughts did not stray from fire and death. She walked down the path, and found a sit on Bilbo's favorite bench and placed her head into her palms. 

Elizabeth had a thirst for adventures, to run along the open road without a thought of nothing excepting moving forward. Because moving forward then she had never to look back, not really. If she could keep the past and pain so far behind it couldn't catch up with her. But this quest…the quest for Erebor was different than anything else she had done before. It was a cold feeling, so cold that it burned, settling in the pit of her stomach like a stone. Erebor. The reason that the smell of burnt flesh was constantly present around her, the reason for phantom flames to snake up her arms and threat to burn her from the inside out until she was nothing but ash. For years she had wondered, but no one had answers for her. Or perhaps, they just weren't willing to share them. 

Her pulse was jumping painfully in her throat, and pressed her fingers against her mouth as she stared into the night that surrounded her. Did she really want the answers now? Would it truly matter after ninety years? Her mind said that it wouldn't, that she had made a life here and had mourned the past. Yet, there was this deep empty ache inside her heart that contradict that thought. The air was thick with tension that one could cut it with a knife, and her stomach rolled unpleasantly. A shadow fell over her, but she stared down at the cobblestone path tracing a patterns in the stones whimsically while she tried to sort out all her thoughts. 

"I take it that your conversation with Bilbo didn't go so well?" Elizabeth asked, quietly. She knew it wouldn't. It would take something profound to encourage the hobbit to leave his home, and Gandalf's meddlesome ways hadn't endeared him to Bilbo in any way. 

"He will see reason." The wizard let out a huff, before he joined her on the bench. His staff knocking against the ground as he set it to rest against the fence, his blue eyes moving around aimlessly. "But what of you, Elizabeth? What will you do?" The wizard asked, calmly. 

"I…I don't know. I am not sure I can do this, Mithrandir," Elizabeth said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her hands were quaking from where she held them on her lap. Inside her head all she could see were visions of fire, and death, and it was so hard to breath. 

"So you prefer to sit here and hide?" Gandalf quirked up an eyebrow, but she didn't reply. Instead, Elizabeth curled into herself ever so slightly and her expression was uncharacteristically blank. "What are you hiding from, Elizabeth?" 

"Everyone. Everything." Myself. Going on this quest would have her confront things that she had thought she had settled and put away forever. Clearly not. Her expression was troubled, and her blue eyes riddled with confusion. "I am not heartless," she said, after a moment. "I'm not. Bilbo's not. Just because we don't say yes, doesn't means that we are heartless." 

"I would never say you were," Gandalf's voice was firm, and he shot her a look that made her feel guilty for snapping at him so. "In fact, my dear girl I would not call you heartless, I would say that you have too big of a heart, and that you feel too much." 

She stood there arms crossed, and looking at him stubbornly. Her head moved back and forth slightly, and she heaved a sigh that rippled through her entire body before raking a hand down her face. "What do you want from me, Gandalf?" She asked, her voice betraying her by breaking. 

"Your help," Gandalf said simply. 

"It's never just that simple," Elizabeth said, with a shake of her head. "You know it is not that simple. Don't make it sound so simple when it's not." 

"Of course not," the wizard stated, twirling his staff between his fingers. He drew a deep breath, and his grey blue eyes peered up at her. "Important things seldom ever are." 

"Then why?" Elizabeth asked. A somber feeling had settled over Bilbo's home, and the shadows seemed more pronounced in this gloomy state. She watched the wizard's brow furrowed as he fiddled with the smoking pipe he pulled out of his coat that was somehow already lit. 

"I know your scars run deep, and I am not just talking about the ones you can see. I want to give you a chance to heal, to finally mend what is broken. One that you could not find with the elves, or on your travels no matter how hard you tried," Gandalf explained, his voice full of somber and sorrow. "I believe with them," he nodded back towards the dining room, "that you can." 

"And what you think all the king's men and all the king's…" She waved her hand in a careless gesture towards the other room and paused for the briefest of moments, "… _dwarves_ ," she said, dryly, "can put Humpty Dumpty back together again?" 

"Elizabeth," Gandalf's hard tone caused her to flinch ever so slightly. "This is not a matter to joke of, and you well know it. You will not find a way to break your curse standing idly by, nor will you find the solace your soul so desperately needs by running away everything good that comes your way," Gandalf said, his voice firm and unwavering. "You know how it is to lose all hope, to have your home and family stripped away from you with no hope of every getting them back. These dwarves share your pain, and after so long without no hope, they are given some. Even if you can't see your home again, these dwarves can and if you can help them with that, wouldn't you?" 

It felt like he had punched all the air out of her gut, leaving her standing there in pain. Her chest seized feeling tight and constricted while her heart pounded against her ribs. Gandalf smiled knowingly and sympathetically. "And Erebor is not just important to those dwarves," the wizard stated, rise from the bench while sending a smoke ring into the air. "It is important to you, too. Or have you forgotten already?" 

Elizabeth gave him a glare, her hand reaching up across the nape of her neck and to the braid hidden underneath the curtain of hair. Her finger tips pressed against the bead there and she felt her heart jolt in her chest. "I…I haven't forgotten," she swallowed thickly. "I promised not to." 

She pulled her shaky hand away abruptly, immediately pulling herself from the darker time. "I need to check on Bilbo," she said, softly and walked around the wizard. Her hand reached for the front door when her ears heard something…a deep humming sounds coming from inside Bag End and Elizabeth looked back at Gandalf in confusion. "What is that?" She asked, her brows pinched. 

The wizard gave a small shrug of his shoulders, and Elizabeth frowned, pulling the door open. She stepped through the threshold into Bag End and followed the sound. She couldn't help it, the somber air and rhythm sunk into her limbs and drew her closer and closer. She rounded the corner, holding her breath and she stopped in the doorway to stare at all the dwarves. When Thorin had arrived, the dwarves had toned down their rowdiness, but this…this was something else entirely. 

Grief. Pain. Loss. It was on all of their faces. The dwarves sat all around the living room, their eyes staring outward at something she couldn't see. Her eyes drifted across them, the pain in all their eyes burning into her mind like the fires from her nightmares and lastly they landed on Thorin who stood by the fire place. His elbow carelessly draped over the mantle, a pipe clasped in his right hand as he stared down at the fire. His voice was deep and rich, mesmerizing as he hummed a gentle, and haunting tune. 

_"Far over the misty mountains cold,_

_To dungeons deep and caverns old."_

All the breath whooshed out of her, stolen away the second Thorin opened his mouth and started to sing. His voice was deep, rich and sent chills across her skin. His eyes reflected the image of fire, and the haunt of death was written upon his face. For a moment, he looked vulnerable as if he was laying his heart bare in that song and allowing his grief to show through his façade of indifference. Balin's soft and emotion filled voice weaved with Thorin's to make the melody all that more haunting. 

_"We must away ere break of day,_ _To find our long-forgotten gold."_

Elizabeth felt tears fill her eyes, and she pressed a hand to her chest. The pain came off of him like tidal waves rushing towards the coastline, and she leaned against the doorway to help keep herself up. It wasn't gold that they sung about, as the words spilled off of all the dwarves tongues as they all sung now. It made have came out as gold, but Elizabeth heard the word 'home'. Her chest felt tight like it was on fire and emotions that she hadn't allowed herself to feel stirred forth, and a white hot tear ran down her cheeks before she could stop it. 

Gandalf put a gentle hand on her shoulder, and he seemed to anchor her in the torrent of feelings that threatened to rip her apart from the inside out. 

_"The pines were roaring on the height,_

_The winds were moaning in the night,_

_The fire was red, it flaming spread,_

_The trees like torches blazed with light."_

And she knew she was lost. 

All her doubts suddenly faded away somehow as she stared at Thorin, unable to look away from him. His pain, such desolation and grief, tore down through her walls and she knew that she was going on this quest. She couldn't not go. Not now. Every horrible nightmare, every horrible vision of fire and death hit her one playing right after the other and she felt the tears slid down her cheeks. How could she not go? She asked herself. How could not see it through? 

The bead braided at the nape of her neck felt impossibly heavy and she closed her eyes, her wet lashes fell upon her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes as she turned and looked over at Gandalf who's face was grim and grave. Her eyes met his and whatever he saw in her gaze made the years ease up off of his face, and a tiny smile to curve at his smile. He pulled a contract out of his cloak, and held it out towards her. 

For a moment, Elizabeth just stared at the outstretched hand then she let out a deep sigh. Taking the contract from the wizards hand, she turned and went looking for a quill and some ink so she could sign it never noticing the pair of intense blue eyes watching her every step of the way. 

* * *

2851 

The Cell

The sound of thunder startled her awake. 

Rain drops dropped through the crude hole in the barred ceiling, and hit her face luring her further back into consciousness. Her eyes glanced up in time to see lightning streak across the sky, and her heartbeat pounded in her eardrums like a staccato. Her body ached from head to toe, covered in cuts and bruises. Her back got the worse of the beatings she had endured on a daily bases. The monster favored the whip, and she wasn't sure she had any skin left on her back anymore. She flinched back from the thunder, and curled into herself. She had never liked thunderstorms. No stories her mother conjured of angels bowling could even change that. She pressed her back against the wall painfully and her fingers dug into her sides as fear ripped through her leaving her breathless. 

The shadows seemed darker, and the evil vibe that came from the prison seemed to increase tenfold. Her stomach rolled violently as the growl of thunder echoed off the walls, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip until it bled. In the next cell to her, she heard the mad mumblings from the occupant and knew the storm had woke him, too. 

There was more than a few times that she was afraid of him, but she would rather have the company of a mad man than those monsters any day. She didn't know what to make of him, but a new fear began to build inside of her heart. Would she eventually become like him? Mad and insane? Is this what this place did to people? A tremble ran down her spine, and she curled her feet protectively underneath her to keep them from getting cold. Her bottom lip quivered, and not for the first time, she pinched her arm. And as always…it did not work. She did not miraculously wake up. The nightmare did not suddenly end. There was no dad telling her it was going to be okay, no mom to wrap her in a warm hug. A cold, numb feeling settled over her and she felt her heart sink like a stone in her chest. 

"Elizabeth," she suddenly spoke, her voice rough and raw from all her screaming. The madman froze, his gaze briefly flickering towards her and his eyes narrowed in suspicion as if he couldn't understand why she was talking before he went back to his mutterined. She didn't know why she felt compelled to say it, or to tell him. Perhaps it was because she felt so alone, and so empty like a jack-o-lantern. 

"Elizabeth," she repeated, once more. She shivered when the pair of crazed eyes turned her way once more, but she held the stare surprising herself. The madman cocked his head to the side, as if not entirely sure he was seeing her or was confused by her presences. Maybe it was the loneliness that set her upon her feet, and made her approach the man who had attacked her only a week before. Or maybe it was something else, Elizabeth really didn't know. All she knew was that her mom and dad weren't going to magically appear and make this better. She was stuck here in this cell, and for how long that would be-whether she find a way out, or…worse-she didn't want to be forgotten. She didn't want to be like all those other kids on the milk cartons with the word MISSING above their photos with nothing else to be remembered by. 

She stared straight into the man's eyes, and pointed at her chest. _"Elizabeth,"_ she slowly pronounced her name, while tapping her finger to her chest to emphasize what she meant. His eyes flickered from her face down to her hand, some kind of realization hitting his eyes. He cocked his head to the side, and he looked at her with his brows furrowed. "Can you say that? Elizabeth?" She asked, feeling more tired. And old. She felt old. _She knew what old looked like. Gray or white hair. Wrinkles like grandmas and grandpas had, but she never understood what older people meant when they said they felt old until now. It was a heaviness that was down upon her, like a constant weight that would not go away. She stared at the crazy man, and tapped her chest. _"Elizabeth,"_ her voice louder, and more insistent. _

The madman's lips pursed. 

After another moment of silence, Elizabeth's shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes in silent defeat. She almost lost herself to exhaustion when she heard a rumbling voice say, "E…Eliz…Eliza." She jolted back to awareness and with wide eyes looked at the madman. Her heart was pounding her chest, as she stared at him working on sounding out her name. Her feet hit the floor and she drew closer to the other cell ignoring the rain that came crashing down upon her. Her tiny fingers wrapped around the bars, and held tight. 

The madman pointed towards her, his brows furrowed. "Eliza…Elizabeth?" He stumbled over her name, the sound of it strange coming off his tongue. 

"Elizabeth," she nodded. There was a strange feeling in her chest, like a swell of hope. Her face stretched into a smile, as a slightly high pitched laugh escaped her mouth. She didn't know why hearing her name made her so happy. It made her feel like she wasn't alone. "Now, you," she pointed at him, her finger tapping his chest. "Who are you?" 

"Ouu…You?" The madman blinked. 

"No, no," Elizabeth shook her head. "Elizabeth," she pointed at herself, then pointed back at him. She saw his eyes fill with realization and his opened his mouth a syllable on his lips only for his mouth to fall closed and confusion clouded his gaze. For several moments, she watched him struggle and it hit her like a punch to the gut. "You don't know…do you?" Elizabeth stared at him, a bit of fear and sadness moving through her. Is that what would happen to her? Would she eventually become like him and lose her name? The madman bowed his hand, his hands moved across his ragged clothing as if perhaps he had his name written down somewhere, but he came up empty. 

"You don't know your own name," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. He raised his head, his blue eyes look straight into hers, and Elizabeth found herself pointing straight at him. "Charlie," she spoke, her voice suspiciously tight. Her finger hit his chest, and . "You can be Charlie." 

* * *

2941 

The Shire 

Bag End

Elizabeth strapped her sword to her waist, as well as her quiver, while her mind raced a million miles a minute. She was so lost in thought and getting ready that she did not see nor hear Bilbo sneak up on her. 

"So you signed the contract," the hobbit said. 

Her spine stiffened, the only indication that she was surprised, before she gave a nod. "Yes. I signed the contract," Elizabeth stated, quietly. She picked up her green cloak and swung it around her shoulders, her fingers nimbly fastening it around her neck. 

Bilbo made a noise of distress and frustration. "You can't be serious, Elizabeth. They are going after a dragon! A real…fire breathing dragon," he breathed out, sounding a bit faint. "I am aware of that, Bilbo," she spared him a small smile, as she did a mental check to make sure she was leaving nothing that she needed behind. "I read the contract, just like you did." 

"Then why? I mean, I know you like adventuring and though I can't for the life of me understand why you do, this is a bit more than just a simple journey with a couple of orcs or wargs to slay!" The hobbit looked at her, aghast. "Why in the world would you want to do this?" 

Elizabeth studied him, for a quiet moment before she pulled him into a tight hug. She heard him huff, but he returned the hug nonetheless. When she pulled back, she cupped his face between her to hands and her lips quirked upward in a half smile. "Bilbo, we don't live for ever and more than half the time, most people aren't living. They just exist. We can be here one second, then gone the next and if we live life safely we risk the chance of never letting anything touch us," Elizabeth told him, softly. Her hands dropped from his face, and she took a step back. Her eyes danced around the room, across the shadows that clung to every surface. "It may be a safe existence, and if that is truly what you long for then no one should begrudge you for it. However," she took a step towards him, and looked into his hazel eyes, "if there is a part of your heart, a part of it that jolts or hopes, for something more than just existence…sign that contract. You'll regret it if you don't." 

Bilbo opened his mouth, but quickly shut it when he floundered for words. Elizabeth gave him an encouraging smile before walking out the door. She silently made her way through the house, it's occupants all had headed to bed. 

All except one, Elizabeth found as she took a short cut through the dining room and found Thorin sitting in the darkened room, staring at the dying fire. Swirls of smoke rose into the air from the pipe that was held in his hand, and he seemed very deep in thought. Elizabeth hesitated for the briefest of moment before she cleared her throat to announce her presence. His posture immediately tensed, and his gaze became guarded as it fell upon her. His blue eyes glanced at her weapons and cloak, and he cocked up his right brow. "Going somewhere?" He asked, his voice suspiciously light. 

"I have business I need to take care of," Elizabeth informed Thorin, while passing him the contract. His long, thick fingers gripped the paper and crinkled it slightly. "I shall meet with you and the company at the outskirts of the Shire in the morn." 

Thorin's nostrils flared slightly, and he looked for a moment to protest when his eyes flickered to the tall figure in grey. His gaze turned back to Elizabeth, resigned. "Very well," he intoned, with a slight incline of his head. "But to not tarry. If you are not there by the time we leave, then you will be left behind." 

"Don't worry," she told him, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I won't be." 

She stared at him for a moment longer, that strange tug of familiarity stirring in the back of her mind and she opened her mouth to ask something, when she thought better of it. "Til tomorrow, Master Oakenshielf," she said, with a thin smile and slight incline of her head. She then headed towards the green door, leaving Thorin to his thoughts. There was a chill in the air as she stepped outside, and the sound of the green shutting behind her sounded so final. 

She looked above and admired the twinkling stars. Their beauty never faltered, and never failed to amaze. A bitter smile appeared on her lips as she greeted the lonely man on the moon. It looked like the same moon, even thought logically she knew it wasn't the same moon. A sigh of longing fell from her lips, and she turned her eyes away from the sky and started down the path. She didn't have to dawdled. She had things she needed to be done. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER! This going to be the last chapter for a couple of weeks, but I may be persuaded to update earlier if people leave a bunch of comments and kudos. Am I shameless bribing my reader? You betcha! lol
> 
> Next chapter: The journey begins, but a mysterious stranger and an untold danger may spell trouble for Thorin and co.
> 
> If anyone wants to know what Elizabeth's armor looks like, it's based on the Nightingale Armor from Skyrim. Instead of black, it's green.
> 
> Rrs are appreciated.


	7. The Beginnings of An Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company sets off, and encounter a most dreadful foe...Lobelia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nope, Hobbit is not mine. If it were than Thorin, Kili, and Fili would not die. They would live! THEY WOULD LIVE! But sadly, I don't own Hobbit. But I write this fanfic for amusement, and I hope all you will enjoy it.  
> **
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Summary: A mistake as a child leaves Elizabeth cursed, and if she falls…so shall the Durin line.
> 
>  
> 
> Pairings: Eventual Thorin/OC, Biblo/? (I am open to suggestions on Bilbo's pairing since I haven't anything in mind yet.)
> 
>  
> 
> Verse: It will be a mixture of the book and movie, but probably will lean more towards the movie since it's the one I know most about. I've only read half of the book so far. 
> 
>  
> 
> Warning: Eventual nightmares, torture, sexual themes and more
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry for the late update. I had this chapter longer, but when I realized I had over thirty pages I had to find a way to cut it in half. Also I’m trying to finish up my NCIS story which is turning out harder than I thought. Anyways, hope you all enjoy! :D
> 
> "Regular Talking"  
> 'Thought will be set up like this.'  
> "Elvish words and translation will be in italic." I've tried to use as much elvish from reliable sights as I could to get an authentic feel. Some things I don't have elvish for, but they will still be in italics so consider it elvish."  
> NOTICE: The One Ring shall be dealt with. I will not leave it open ended, or merely not dealt with. Also it will not be a quick pop to Mordor and all is said and done. I am already working on it with the Lotr trilogy, movie and books, and it will be several chapters, but it's all going to say in one story. Also, when I post up the timeline certain dates will be changed due to plot needs, and with be marked in the timeline with a ** so there will not be any confusion with canon.

  
**Chapter Eight**

**The Beginnings of an Adventure**  


* * *

The sunlight drifted down upon her with a comforting warm, like a father’s hug or a mother’s kiss to the forehead. Elizabeth absorbed the warm from where she lazily rode across the grassy field, waiting for the Company to come riding along. Her horse, Aracala looked majestic and sleek with her freshly groomed coat glistening in the sun like shimmering gold and her blond mane billowing wildly as she let out a loud neigh. Aracala was a wall of lean, muscle bred for speed and strength. And was as incorrigible curious like a child, for the horse had her head bent and curiously stared at a squirrel that was running around in front of them. The cool breeze carried the sound of voices, and Elizabeth straightened upright on the saddle. Long, wiry limbs filled with leaves obscured the Company, but it was certainly them. She could hear Kili and Fili’s laughter and Bofur singing a song about a merry old inn. 

Aracala neighed, inquiringly and tossed her mane out of her eyes to see better. Elizabeth chuckled, patting her neck with a soft, fond smile upon her face as her blue eyes watched the Company ride around the corner. As she expected, Thorin lead the front of the company with Balin and Dwalin flanking his side. Bifur, Bofur and Bombur were riding at the end. Nori road in the middle, constantly changing his pace while Dori and Ori were clustering in the middle with Fili, Kili, Oin and Gloin. Gandalf rode off to the side, his long beard and grey pointy hat unmistakable. 

“She is late,” Balin murmured. 

Elizabeth’s eyebrow quirked upward, and have no doubt that the ‘she’ they mentioned was her. She urged Aracala forward, slowly. 

“It matters not. If she does not show before we leave the Shire, then she shall be left behind,” Dwalin grunted. 

Thorin kept his silence. His blue eyes scanning the horizon, searchingly. He should not be surprised that she has not shown. She would not be the first to break oaths with him and his kind. “Carry on,” he began to order when he caught a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye, and turned. A trill of shock rushed through him as his gaze met a pair of unnatural eyes. 

“I’m not late,” Elizabeth stated, mock offended. Many dwarves jolted in surprise and shock and twisted towards her. Nori, however, wore a knowing kind of smile. “Merely waiting,” Elizabeth stated, simply as she nonchalantly joined the company on the road. Her eyes swept over all of them, before returning to the Company’s leader. The daylight did nothing to make him appear any less severe, and he was poised on top of the horse like a bird of prey sitting on a turret staring down waiting to strike. The image of a predator harden in her mind as she absorbed the sight of him against rising sun. His heavy brows framed deep-set eyes that at present looked the color of midnight blue sky and unfathomable as the heavens themselves. There were harsh lines etched at the sides of his stern mouth. “You are here,” he stated, and if he was surprised he hid it well. 

“I gave my word,” she said, looking at him through her lashes. Her lips curled upward into a half smile, and her eyes glinted with a dry amusement. “Try not to look so disappointed.” 

Thorin arched a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting a fragment. He still had doubts of how exactly this tenacious young woman would be of any help to the company, but he found himself reluctantly admiring wry humor and boldness more than he’d admit. “Carry on,” he ordered, and nudged his horse’s sides with his heel and the horse gave a snort before trotting forward once more. 

Elizabeth snorted, lightly at the very clear dismissal when a hand came to rest on her shoulder. She turned to find Balin looking up at her with a considering look. He looked her straight in the eyes for a long moment, then nodded to himself as if he found what he was looking for. “Welcome to the Company, lassie,” Balin said, and he seemed genuinely pleased that she showed. A fear--a linger doubt that she did not know she had--abated and Elizabeth felt her entire body from head to toe relax. 

“Thank you, Master Balin,” she said, and gave him a smile. 

He released her shoulder, and returned to Thorin’s side at the head of the company. Elizabeth watched as several members of the company passed, offering greeting and she twisted the reigns so Aracala would fall in line along side of them. It was only then a moment later that Nori, thief by trade if the dagger she saw his nimble fingers nick off of Dwalin only moments before was any indication came to ride alongside of her. 

“I suppose you’ll be wanting in on the wager, lass?” Nori cocked up an eyebrow with a smirk upon his face. 

She turned her face towards him, and studied him for a long moment. “What wager?” Elizabeth asked, decidedly wary. There was a glint of mischievousness in his gaze, and she wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing. 

“On Bilbo, of course!” Bofur stated, with a wild hand gesture as if it were the most obvious thing in the entire world. 

“Bilbo?” Elizabeth tilted her head to the side. “What does this…be have to do with Bilbo?” She asked, even though she had a good feeling that she knew exactly that what the bet had to do with the hobbit. 

“On whether or not he shows up,” Bofur stated. 

“He won’t,” Dwalin commented, roughly. 

“He will!” Kili defended, while Fili just shook his head side to side. Other murmured in their opinions as well, eventually it all came back to them all looking at Elizabeth. 

“What?” She blurted out, her eyebrows shooting up towards her hairline as she shifted underneath all the stairs. It was unnerving to be underneath twelve gazes at once (Gandalf was merrily enjoying the scenery and Thorin vigilantly looked forward, his expression stony.) 

“Well, what say you, lass?” Gloin stated, loudly. “Do you think the hobbit will show, or stay in his little hobbit hole?” 

Elizabeth wanted to point out that Bag End was not little by any means, but let the impulse slip by for the thought was inane and unimportant. “Of course, he will show,” Elizabeth stated, because in her heart she believed that to be true. She knew that realistically she could not truly be certain on this, but she had this feeling in her heart. A strange knowing, and she had complete faith Bilbo would show as she had faith that dawn would break each day. 

Thorin scoffed lightly, but Elizabeth’s keen ears caught and she gave him a dark glare. She opened her mouth to making a cutting comment when Nori jingled a bag of coins to regain her attention. “If your so confident why not put some money on it?” Nori challenged, with a roguish smirk. 

Elizabeth had no need of gold, but there was no harm in placing the bet. “How much?” She questioned, raising her chin ever so slightly. 

“20 gold pieces,” Nori informed her. 

“Very well, Master Dwarf,” she said, inclining her head in his direction. “You have yourself a bet.” A cheer came from some of the other dwarves at her answer, while Gandalf smiled knowingly. 

Elizabeth scanned the Shire that was in the distance, and growing even further behind them with each passing second. Aracala trotted happily, and nickered at all the other horses happy to have company. It was very rare that Elizabeth traveled with others. Several minutes passed where they road. The Dwarves chatted amongst themselves, but Elizabeth kept silent. She took this time to looked at all the dwarves and looked at them thoughtfully. They were all proud, and stubborn people not unlike herself. Balin was old and wise and had a kindness about him that put Elizabeth at ease. Dwalin was a bit gruff, but he seemed like a honest dwarf and she could also tell he was an accomplished fighter. 

Bofur was openly joking, and talkative, but she had a feeling his bold personality hid a depth that few got to see. Elizabeth raised her emerald hazel stare, and continued to look at the group, evaluating them one by one. Bifur only spoke in khuzdul (or with his hands) a side effect of the ax in his head, so communication with him would be strained without a translator. He gave offer her an encouraging smile. Or what appeared to be an encouraging smile, it might have been an insane one, but she returned it nonetheless. Bombur was a sweet, jolly dwarf and from the conversation he was having with Ori, he was a cook. 

Oin who was had a horn in left ear was stern, and hard of hearing, but he appeared to have a kind disposition. Ori whom was writing constantly in his book taking not everything around while Dori fretted over him, worriedly. Gloin gushed about his wife and son, and he could not be more prouder as he stared down at the pictures he had of them. 

Nori was harder to pin down than the rest. He outwardly was pleasant and a bit of a rascal, though she had no doubt he could be down right dangerous given the chance. Fili and Kili held themselves proudly, reminiscent of Thorin. But unlike Thorin, they had a carefree air that surrounded them as well as a great mischief in their eyes that reminded her of a pair of twins in Rivendell. Suddenly Aracala threw back her mane slowly her gait into a shuffle while she gave a neigh. Elizabeth looked down questioningly when she heard a shout upon the wind. 

“Wait!” 

The wind whipped the loose strands of her hair, into her face as she twisted around to look behind her. She tucked the wild strands behind her ear, as her eyes narrowed on the green valley behind them. Her eyes widened a fraction as she seen a very familiar hobbit rushing up the hill and waving a contract wildly in his hand. A laugh passed through her lips, and her lips were stretched into a broad smile. “Bilbo!” She called out. 

“Bilbo?” Fili blinked. 

“Bilbo!?” Bofur exclaimed. 

Thorin’s eyes narrowed in shock, at the hobbit. He then glanced over, and caught the woman’s gaze. She casually sent him a smug look, and he felt his expression tighten into a glower while her smile broadened. The rest of the dwarves twisted in their saddles, all to look at the hobbit that ran towards them as fast as his hairy feet could carry him. 

“WAIT!” He cried out, desperately. “I signed it!” 

Gandalf’s eyes crinkled, as he smiled proudly at the hobbit. Bilbo slowed his footsteps until he came to a halt beside Balin, and held up the contract. “I signed it,” he said, breathlessly. 

Balin takes the contract, and pulls out a pocket-glass to inspect the hobbit’s signature before he smiled at Bilbo. “Everything appears to be in order. Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield,” Balin said, and cheers erupted from the company. 

Thorin arched his brow, glancing at the hobbit with a cold kind of consideration. “Give him a pony,” he ordered, roughly after a moment and Bilbo blanched. 

“No, no, no, no, that--that won’t be necessary, thank you, but I’m sure I can keep up on foot,” Bilbo stated, shaking his head rapidly not noticing Kili and Fili’s approach. 

“Not with the distance will be walking Bilbo,” Elizabeth told him, and bit back a smile as the two dwarves reached down and heaved the hobbit off the ground. Bilbo’s eyes bulged out, and his mouth dropped on in a silent scream as he kicked his feet wildly. The set him down on the saddle of Myrtle, their only pony and the only stead Bilbo would be capable of riding. 

The hobbit looked terrified. 

“Oh, Myrtle is a gentle pony. She won’t be giving you any trouble,” Bofur assured him, with a smile. 

Bilbo didn’t look particularly convinced. 

“Come on, Nori, pay up,” Oin suddenly shouted. “Go on.” 

Nori sighed, and tossed a sack of money to Oin. Bags of money flew in the air, and Bilbo watched on bemused. He looked to Elizabeth. “What’s that about?” He asked, head tilted to the side. 

“They placed bets on whether or not you’d turn up,” Elizabeth explained, with more than a little amusement in her voice. “Most of them bet that you wouldn’t.” 

“What of you? What did you two bet?” The hobbit asked, after a moment of silence. He got his answer when two bags of money came flying at the pair. 

Two bags of money soared in their direction. Elizabeth caught hers, and secured it to her waist. Gandalf smirked triumphantly, holding his bag of gold. “My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second,” he stated, as he put the money into his bag. 

Bilbo felt something lighten in his chest. He wasn’t sure if coming on this adventure was worth it, but he did admit that having the pair of them bet on him did make him feel a bit better about it. Elizabeth clasped a hand on his shoulder. “It gladdens me that decide to come on this journey, Bilbo,” Elizabeth said, her eyes shining bright. 

“Well…” Bilbo grumbled, but the half smile on his face gave him away. “Couldn’t let you have all the fun,” he settled for saying. 

Elizabeth let out a laugh, her smile visibly brightening and then a sly gleam entered her eyes that immediately put the hobbit on edge. “Good. Now you have no reason to not continue your sword training,” she said, with a smirk and her hand dropped from his shoulder. 

“I guess not...wait, what?” The hobbit blinked, and the words sunk in. “No, no, no! Elizabeth, wait! Get back here!” Bilbo nearly yelled as Elizabeth rode up towards the front. 

Several dwarves chuckled at the pair, and Bilbo who struggled to stay balanced on the pony. “Elizabeth, we need to have a discussion! Now! Right now!” Thorin gave a sharp shake of his head. “With all the racket, he shall alert every enemy on our path,” Thorin grumbled, roughly. Dwalin grunted in agreement, while Balin merely sighed. 

“You are still in the Shire, Master Oakenshield,” Gandalf spoke up, his displeasure thinly veiled by a mask of civility as he heard the comment. “You shall find no enemies here.” 

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Elizabeth announced, loudly. She had pulled her stead to a halt as her eyes spied something pink, frilly with a mess of blond curls and umbrella rushing up the path in fury. “He might find one,” she said, with a sardonic smile. “Lobelia,” she added, in warning to Bilbo. Bilbo cursed before he could help it startling a laugh out of Kili and squeak of out Ori. Dori quickly reached over covering Ori’s ears and sent Bilbo a glare. 

“Bilbo Baggins!” The harpy came to a halt in front of the entire company--one had to at least admire Lobelia’s bravery for facing the fearsome group of dwarves, or pity her for her stupidity--and shrieked. Her green eyes were a suiting color for all the jealousy that were in her heart, and they were narrowed and her lips were pressed into a thin line of disapproval. “What in Yavanna’s green hills do you think you are doing? Parading around with these--these dwarves,” she spat out like a curse word and several members of the company bristled, “and seen consorting with wizards! Have you no shame?” 

Bilbo sputtered, his face paling and his nerve crumbling underneath the onslaught of Lobelia’s vicious words. He saw the bewilderment of the dwarves, and he also saw the stormy quality that entered Gandalf’s gaze. He glanced out at Elizabeth, whose expression was stony and her jaw was clenched tightly. Sensing trouble about to stir, Bilbo tried to quickly to keep peace. “Hello, Lobelia,” he said, his tone pleasantly, but the slight stutter in his words belied his nerves. “Lovely morning, isn’t it?” 

“Lovely morning? Lovely morning? That is all you have to say for yourself?” Lobelia snapped, with a huff. “It would be a lovely morning if I didn’t wake up to find my garden had been brutalized by your--your band of dwarves!” 

Elizabeth glanced over at Fili and Kili, who shared a guilty look. She made a mental note to congratulate them, before she turned back to Lobelia with a glare. 

“Burglar,” Thorin eyed Lobelia as if she were something he just scrapped off his booth, “what is the reason for this disruption?” 

“Uh, well,” Bilbo fiddled nervously with the reins, while his face flushed red. “You see--” 

“Angry fiancé?” Bofur suggested, helpfully. 

Kili and Fili shared a grin. “Ah, perhaps our burglar has some explaining to do,” Kili barely choked back his laughter. 

“Trying to run out on a his fiancé,” Fili clucked his tongue, and shook hi shad in mock disappointment. His lips twitched, his face threatening to split in a smile. “Or perhaps a wedding?” 

Dwalin snorted. "Can't say I blame him." 

“What? No!” 

“Me? Marry him?” Lobelia gagged, then paused. “Wait! Burglar? Why are you calling him burglar?” The blonde hobbit’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. Bilbo sighed, rolling his eyes. Of course, she would latch onto that. He could only imagine the rumors that she would start and spread and mourned the loss of his status as a respectable hobbit. Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose, quickly losing his patience over such a trivial squabble and once again cursed the wizard’s choice of a burglar. 

“No,” Elizabeth cut in dryly. “Not a fiancé. Just a loud mouthed harpy. Good day, Lobelia,” Elizabeth had a forced smile on her face, as she greeted the hobbit lass. “I would say you look lovely today but it appears like your flowers, you’ve been trampled on.” 

It did look like she had been trampled on, with her wild curls sticking about and the wrinkle quality of her dress. It had appeared that Lobelia had saw the state of her garden and rushed out the door after hastily trying to put herself together. Lobelia’s head snapped towards Elizabeth, and her face paled before turning red with embarrassment and anger. “You,” Lobelia barely concealed a sneer. “What are you doing here, you harlot?” 

There was a couple of noise of outrage from somewhere in the group of dwarves, and Bilbo sputtered angrily. Gandalf eyed Lobelia as if he was contemplating what kind of bug to turn her into, but Elizabeth barely reacted. Her polite façade barely cracked, only an eyebrow ticked upward gave away her annoyance. “Ah, Lobelia, that’s the nicest thing you've ever said to me!” She stated, with a high pitched fake laugh and her smile was too wide to be real. 

Lobelia’s lip curled. “I should have known this had something to do with you,” the blond hobbit stated, haughtily. 

“Don’t you have something better to do, Lobelia? Like plot how to steal Bilbo’s silverware? Or Bag End?” Elizabeth shot back, with an air of exasperation surrounding her. 

Bilbo put his knuckles in his mouth to stop the laughter as Lobelia went slack jawed at the accusation then her eyes narrowed into slits. “I told them, you know. I told them that you shouldn’t be allowed in the Shire. Anywhere the Grave Burner goes, chaos is bound to follow.” 

Bilbo gasped outraged. Thorin’s eyes narrowed, and his brows furrowed as he looked at the stricken expression on Elizabeth’s face. The woman had pulled back as if she had just be struck which only--annoyingly so--piqued his curiosity further. 

“Grave burner?” Ori asked, his brows crinkled in confusion. 

“What’s a grave burner?” Oin asked, his face scrunched up and he twisted his ear trumpet as if he wasn’t sure if he heard that right. 

Elizabeth didn’t answer. Instead, she sat froze upon her stead, and Aracala neighed worriedly sensing her distress. She looked dazed as if she couldn’t quite believe that 

Lobelia had just went there, and then her expression went cold. “I suggest you,” her tone was light, but there was unmistakable weight to her words, “refrain from calling me that, Halfling.” 

“Elizabeth,” Bilbo was astonished, “we hobbits are half of--” 

“You are half of nothing, Bilbo,” Elizabeth stated, pointedly. “As for some hobbits,” a stink eye thrown in Lobelia direction left little doubt to whom she was talking about, “the same cannot be said.” 

“Why you--” Lobelia hissed. “It is a title you earned.” 

“That may be,” Elizabeth commented, tightly. “But perhaps you’ve forgotten how I earned that name. The why behind it.” She gave the female hobbit a hard stare. “I could have left it to you. To all of you. I didn’t because it was the right thing to do. So you could keep the memory of how they were because they weren’t as you remembered, and you shouldn’t have to had to see that. I spared you that pain, do not attempt to mock me for it.” 

Lobelia opened her mouth only then to close it, and looked down. Her cheeks were pink with embarrassment and perhaps a bit of shame, too. The blond hobbit twisted her dress nervously in her hands before she turned and walked away in silence. Elizabeth sat there rigidly on top of her horse, and could feel the curiosity and suspicion rolling off the dwarves in waves. Running a hand through her hair, she heaved a sigh while she watched Lobelia walk out of sight. 

“Woman,” a voice barked. 

Her head snapped towards Thorin, who regarded her with a dark gaze. “Dwarf,” she shot back, mocking his tone and glare. 

“What was the meaning of that?” Thorin asked, the lines around his eyes more pronounced with his misgivings. Grave Burner, was not a title he had ever heard before and while the denotation behind it was unknown to him it did not create the image of someone trustworthy. He knew that Balin would most likely reprimand him for his harsh suspicion, but with the Lonely Mountain so close, he could not afford to be anything but. He would allow nothing to jeopardize this journey, and especially not a hobbit or this woman. 

“Nothing of your concern,” she said, her tone simple. He had no right to hear that story, and she would not offer him any explanation. At least, not right now. 

“If it puts this company at risk,” Thorin shot back, rigidly, “then you’ll find it is my concern.” 

“’Tis a cognomen, nothing more. So stifle your concern, your company will be brought no harm by me,” Elizabeth stated, airily. Her answer that really didn’t answer anything only made Thorin’s expression sour further, and that probably amused more than it should have. “And if you wanted a full disclosure of my past, Master Oakenshield, perhaps you should have put that in your contract,” she added, cheekily. 

Thorin gave her a flat look, his fingers twisting in the reign to try quell the urge to throttle the young woman. He had never met anyone with such cheek, or with the nerve to give him such save for his most esteemed friends who had long since earned that right. However, Miss Morgan was not such a person. Perhaps this was Mahal’s way of cursing him for taking his sister sons without her blessing. Dis had said she would find a way of paying him back, and this cheeky lass would a perfect punishment. 

“Bilbo,” her voice broke through Thorin’s thoughts and he saw her turn towards the hobbit, “let’s go see them. We should say good-bye before we leave. They would want us to say good-bye.” 

Bilbo blinked; half surprised, half startled. Then he let out a long breath, before he nodded with a heavy heart. “Yes. They would,” he said, quietly. 

“We have not the time for farewells. If there were partings to be said, you should have already spoken them,” Thorin intoned, his disgruntled gaze flickered between the pair. 

“Then you are in luck, Master Dwarf,” Elizabeth said, and held his stare. “For we,” she grabbed Bilbo’s reigns, and lead him along, “intend to ride ahead in order to spare you your time!” She urged into a gallop without waiting for a reply and Bilbo yelped clinging onto the pony for dear life. “Try not to get the Company lost, Master Oakenshield! There are many more hobbits like Lobelia, and I’d hate for your journey to end because you got on the wrong side of gardening shovel!” 

Elizabeth flashed Thorin a cheeky smile over her shoulder and savored the image of Thorin’s glower before the road curved and a grove of trees blocked her view. Dwalin let out a bark of laughter, having no issue with the dark glare sent his way. Fili bit his bottom lip hard while he looked everywhere, but his uncle. Kili had bent over burying his face into his horse’s neck to muffle his laughter. Balin chuckled along with Gandalf while the rest at the dwarves valiantly tried to hide their amusement. 

Thorin gripped his reigns until his knuckles were blanched white, but he schooled his featured into a haughty expression. As a throb went through his temples, he wondered exactly what the wizard had brought down upon him. “Move on,” he ordered, sharply. All the laughter ceased, and the company did as they were bid. His gaze flickered to where the woman and hobbit had disappeared, and bit back a sigh as a familiar pain (usually one only his nephews could invoke) pulse through his skull. Insufferable wench, he thought before dispelling any thought of the woman from his mind and concentrated on the path before him. 

And to not get lost on it. 

* * *

  
**  
**

2912 

The Shire 

Spring 

The grave digger. The grave burner. Its what they, the fauntlings, came to call her as winter ended. They didn’t understand. All they saw was her take the bodies (though their parents valiant tried to shield them from such horrors) and they were never seen again. The snow began to melt, and one would think the troubles were over. But with the snow melting, it revealed the devastation left behind. Broken bodies that had been hidden beneath the white were revealed. Survivors went to their neighbors only to find they had frozen to death, and the bodies began to pile up. Nearly half of the Shire had been wiped out, and even as the air warmed Bilbo felt that he would never be warm again. He stared at the pile the bodies in the cart and Elizabeth who stood surrounded by trees and six feet deep holes and she kept digging. And those she did not dig graves for would be burned in the pyre in the even. Not all could bear to see the headstones, a terrible reminder of a terrible time. 

It is why the Thain designated Elizabeth to make the graves in a place shrouded by trees. Out of sight, and out of mind. Or so the Shire hoped, but it left Bilbo with a bitter taste in his mouth. His rubbed his arms, and looked at Elizabeth who wiped the sweat from her brow. Dark bags hung underneath her eyes, and a tremble ran along her jaw. She looked tired and exhausted, a look of total devastation plastered to her face. No one else could beat back the orcs and wargs like she had, and no one could bring themselves to bury their loved ones, so she did. 

“You should not be out here, Bilbo,” her voice came quiet as the breeze as she shoved the shovel into the hard ground and forced the dirt from the earth. “You are still sick,” she paused, briefly to send him a reprimanding glare before continuing to dig. 

“Neither should you,” he commented, after a ragged cough. He then paused to regain his breath, ignoring the pain inside his chest. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone. The others should be helping.” I should be helping, he added in thought, as his eyes found his father’s grave marked with only a large sand stone and his name that had been crudely engraved upon it until something more suitable could be done. 

“No one should have to see their loved ones like this, Bilbo,” Elizabeth sighed heavily. “They should get to remember them as they were. I do not mind this burden, and I will bear it gladly. Now, please…you should not have to see this. Go home. Be with your mother,” she said, softly. She looked up at him, and gave him a sad smile. “She needs you.” So do you, he wished to counter, but did not. Bilbo wasn’t sure if Elizabeth could handle being called out on that right now when she appeared so tired and shaken. He coughed into the crook of his arm, before he gave a heavy sigh. “Just let me stay,” he pleaded, gently. “Just for a moment.” Just for a moment so neither of us are alone, he thought, blinking his wet eyes. He didn’t want to head back to Bag End just yet, for it was filled with haunting reminders of happier times and his mother who was silently staring out the window as if seeing something in the distance that no one else could. 

Elizabeth paused, leaning on the shovel to keep herself upright. She regarded him with such a sad gaze, like for a moment she just might shatter. Her fingers trembled, before she bowed her head and returned to her task. “Very well,” she agreed, with a light nod. “But only for a moment.” Bilbo nodded, and sat down on the hillside. He just sat there, longer than the moment he had been promised, but Elizabeth made no mention of the time passing. Biblo sat there in silence, and Elizabeth just kept digging. 

* * *

****

2491 

The Shire 

The Fell Winter Cemetery

The sun was bright and blazing. The flowers were colorful and in bloom. Everything green and lush, and yet Elizabeth was troubled by the sight as she stood on the edge of the cemetery. Cemeteries weren’t supposed to look happy. They were supposed to look mourning, she thought inanely. Dark and depressing. Her gaze flickered across the headstones which had replaced the crude rocks that once marked the graves--graves such as these weren’t common practice in the Shire, it was easy to burn the dead, than bury them--and thought about how the Fell Winter had left too many bodies. The sight of the cemetery took her back to that dark time, and it made her heart cringe. Some graves were marked. Some of the graves were unmarked. Some hobbits had been mutilated beyond recognition thanks to the wolves, wargs and orcs. She shook her head, forcing such unpleasant thoughts away as she looked towards Bilbo. He stood in front of two headstones, his hazel eyes flickered back and forth between them. His mother had wanted to be bury right along side her father, reunited in death, he supposed is what she hoped for. 

Belladonna Baggins 

2853-2919 

Bungo Baggins 

2846-2911

He never read the epitaphs. The beautiful sentiments engraved beneath their names. He knew what a wonderful father his dad had been. He knew that his mother was beloved, most of all by him. He did not need those words because he had always known who his parents were. He didn’t need a headstone to remind him. He let out a weighty sigh as he contemplated the headstones. He thought himself pretty clever for a hobbit, but in this very moment he knew not what to say. 

Elizabeth walked across the graveyard, and came to stand behind Bilbo. He looked a bit shaken, and a twinge of guilt hit her in the chest. “Bilbo, I’m sorry,” she apologized, suddenly. “I shouldn’t have brought you down here.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Bilbo chided, quietly. “You needed a moment to breath. Honestly, so did I.” A wistful smile played upon his lips. “She would have been ecstatic to see me going on an adventure.” 

“She would have,” Elizabeth agreed, softly. 

“Father wouldn’t have,” Bilbo laughed, his voice a bit wobbly. “He is probably rolling in his grave as we speak.” 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Elizabeth said, with a tiny chuckle. “He wasn’t adventurous, but he loved your mother so on some level I’m sure he would understand.” 

“I suppose so,” Bilbo said, not entirely convinced. “But going on an adventure…not at all respectable.” 

“You mother went on adventures,” Elizabeth pointed out, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiled down on him. “She turned out pretty well, didn’t she?” 

“Yes,” Bilbo answered, with no hesitation. 

“And so have you,” she said, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. “You showed a lot of courage today.” 

“All I did was sign my name on a piece of paper,” Bilbo gave her a flat look. 

“You did much more than that,” she said, with a half smile and eyebrow arched upward. “It takes a lot to give up the comforts of the known for the uncertainty of the unknown.” 

“Not for you,” Bilbo retorted, lightly. “You always have one foot out the door.” 

It was meant as teasing, but Elizabeth’s lips parted in surprise. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, and she looked a bit wounded. She opened her mouth to say something when a familiar grey figure stepped through the throng of trees. “I knew I would find the pair of you down here,” Gandalf smiled, at the pair. 

“We weren’t exactly hiding,” Elizabeth tossed the wizard a dry glance. 

“Of course not,” said Gandalf, with a merry twinkle in his eye and the tone in voice implied that he was merely humoring her. “I trust you two are ready to continue your journey?” 

Elizabeth glanced over at Bilbo and the hobbit glanced back at her. Bilbo haved a sigh, but nodded with a half smile on his face. “Yes, we are,” Bilbo said, a bit resigned, but there was tremble of excitement that rushed through him. Apparently his Tookish side was not as dominant as he would have liked to believe. “Oh,” his face fell as he reached into his pocket. “Oh, no! Oh, no!” 

Elizabeth and Gandalf blinked. 

“My dear hobbit, what ever is the matter?” The wizard asked, bemused. 

“I haven’t got any supplies, and I haven't got any money!” Bilbo exclaimed, his brows furrowed nervously. He had been quite in a hurry and had run out of his home with nothing, but the clothes on his back. “And…I’ve forgotten my handkerchief!” 

Elizabeth gave a light laugh, and threw her hand over her mouth when the hobbit gave her a mean glare. The Grey Wizard sighed, lightly. “You will have to manage without pocket handkerchiefs and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins, before we reach out journey’s end. You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire, but home is now behind you…” The Grey Wizard gave him an encouraging smile. “The world is ahead.” 

The Grey Wizard head through the treeline, and Elizabeth looked towards Bilbo. She watched the emotions play across his face, and could see the fear and hesitation in his eyes. “Bilbo,” she said, gently. “I cannot promise you that there won’t be troubles, or danger on this journey, but I will promise you this: I promised to protect you, Bilbo, as best I can. I will continue to do so as long as you’ll have me stand at your side.” 

“You always do that,” Bilbo said, suddenly. His shoulders slumped, and he felt his fear abate for a moment. 

“Do what?” She blinked, genuinely puzzled. 

“Nothing,” he said, with a small laugh and shake of his head. “Nevermind. Let’s go.” 

As they pushed through the trees, the found the Company just catching up with them. Thorin’s face was blank, but Elizabeth could see the impatience that set just underneath his skin. Fili and Kili enthusiastically offered to help Bilbo onto his pony once more, but the hobbit blanched, shaking his head violently. After three failed attempt on his own for he refused Elizabeth’s help, he wasn’t given much of a choice. Fili and Kili hauled him off the ground, and set him down on the pony. Backwards. 

Elizabeth laughed, while Bilbo glowered and he sat himself right without falling off. A sigh worked its way up Thorin’s throat, but he held it back. The throbbing ache from his temples bloomed outward until his entire headache. “Move along,” he called out. The King in Exile was determined to make up the time they had lost with all the dilly dallying about. 

Bilbo drew to the side of Gandalf, and entered into an awkward conversation with the wizard while Elizabeth rode off to the side. Her gaze scanned the green fields ever warily. Even though an attack was highly unlikely while still within the Shire borders, that did not mean there weren’t any to be found. As her gaze moved around, it was unconsciously drawn back to the leader of their company. Thorin had an arrogant lift to his chin, and his piercing blue eyes remained trained on the road before them, unflinching. 

Elizabeth got the immediate sense that Thorin was scared of no one, that he did what he pleased and he did not care a bit what other thought of it. Which was not entirely a bad thing, she thought as the corner of her mouth tilted upward in reluctant admiration. The breeze picked up and rustled through the trees before washing over Elizabeth toying with her hair in a comforting motion. It has begun…a voice came like a whisper on the wind, and Elizabeth’s spine immediately straighten like a rod of steel. Her eyes went a bid wide, and the air shoved out of her lungs. Instinctively, she glanced over at Gandalf for the wizard was more in tune with the world than she, but Gandalf seemed blissfully unaware of anything strange going on. Frowning heavily, she strained to hear over the various conversations going on in the group. For a moment, there was nothing, but a gentle breeze. Several seconds passed by with no more whispers and when Elizabeth was about to relax in her saddle the whisper came once more. 

_It has begun,_ the voice was louder, and the unmistakable image of Lady Galadriel flashed through her mind. So it was Lady Galadriel’s voice that whispered upon the wind. The tension eased out of her shoulders ever so slightly, but not by much. A sense of foreboding knotted in her gut as the words repeated themselves over and over in her head. It has begun. Did Lady Galadriel mean this journey to the Lonely Mountain? Or did she mean something else? Whatever she meant, Elizabeth could feel the ominous tone still ringing in her head and for the rest of the day, she rode in a deep, troubled silence.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER
> 
> Originally I was going to have this chapter longer…then I realized I had written over thirty pages, and decided to cut it half. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed!  
> Rrs are always appreciated!


	8. Something Wicked on the Roadside

**Chapter Eight ‘Something Wicked on the Road Side’**

* * *

****

“Lesson number one: stick them with the pointy end.” 

Eve had crept upon them. It was only when the sun began to dip behind the horizon, and the shadows started to stretch themselves across the land did Thorin finally call the company to a halt. “Thank goodness,” the hobbit beside Evelyn had sighed, heavily and it had caused her lips to twitch upward into a smile though she understood his exhaustion. They had rode without stop for the rest of the day, even when it came time for a meal, the food had simply been passed down the line. She gave Bilbo half of hers because she had a sneaky suspicion that Gandalf did not tell the dwarves how much food a hobbit needed. She of course knew that Bilbo was going to have to cut back some, but she made a note to buy more food in Bree because she wasn’t going to let him starve. However despite the trying day, it had been spent in good spirits with most of the company singing songs or telling stories. 

They had made there was to the very edge of hobbit-lands, a wild respectable country inhabited by decent folk with good roads which eased the tension out of Elizabeth’s body. They would be safe to camp underneath the stars here, for there was little danger found in the lands blessed by Yavana’s hands. Now Elizabeth stood twirling a large stick between her fingers, while Bilbo stood adjacent from her with a rather unimpressed look upon his face. “Stick them with the pointy end? That is your lesson? Your sage advice?” The hobbit demanded, a hand placed on his hip. 

Elizabeth quirked up an eyebrow, then lunged and slapped Bilbo on the wrist with her stick. The hobbit yelped, and stumbled backwards with a wounded expression. “Lesson two,” she suppressed a smile. “Don’t let them stick you with the pointy end. And if you wanted sage advice, you should look to the wizard, not to me.” 

Bilbo huffed, rubbing his wrist then narrowed his eyes. “You’re going…to pay for that,” Bilbo stated, with a sniff. 

“Oh, am I?” Elizabeth smiled in a very cat-like way. “How very unBaggins of you to seek revenge,” she added, with slight laugh. 

Bilbo gave a roll of his eyes before he lunged forward, and swung at her. His swings were jerky, and he threw himself far too much into them, but he had more potential than he knew. Elizabeth blocked his strikes, and she stepped back. “You have to think of the sword as more than a tool, Bilbo,” she told him, seriously. “It has to become an extension of you, as vital as any limb and must flow as such,” she offered him a small smile. “A sword can be many things. It is a weapon, a blade meant to defend, a blade meant to kill. With one well aimed swing it can bring down foes, with one misplaced one it will fail you. It can bring honor, it can bring ruin,” Elizabeth told him, very seriously. “To wield a sword, is to hold the power of life and death in your hands.” 

“I…I don’t understand,” Bilbo shook his head slightly. 

“I hope that you never fully have to,” Elizabeth said, with a sad smile. She shook her head, lightly. “You did good for your first lesson.” 

“Good?” Bilbo panted. Disbelief written all over his features as he looked up at her. “I didn’t even hit you once,” he grumbled, and straightened his vest that had become wrinkled with all the activity. 

“Something that can be worked on,” she said, with a light shrug of her shoulder. 

Bilbo snorted, unconvinced. “Hobbits weren’t made for fighting,” Bilbo stated, with a long sigh as he dropped his stick onto the ground. “We were made for simple comforts, not for sword fighting.” 

“And I think that you don’t give yourself enough credit,” Elizabeth told the hobbit, as she settle down on a rock. The camp was by a large Cliffside with trees on either side, and twenty feet south of their camp was another drop off, one that led to nearly two hundred straight down into a ravine. She grabbed her satchel and placed it in her lap, taking out her hairbrush. Bilbo just shook his head, not going to argue with her. She was stubborn as a mule when she had her mind set upon something, and nothing on Yavanna’s green earth could change it. 

Across the camp, Thorin stood leaned back against a rock and lost in his thoughts. He rolled the key between his fingers, its constant weight around his neck a heavy reminder of what this all was for. _Remember,_ the voice beckon from the back of his mind. _Remember us._ An order given long ago, one that he had never--not for one second--forgotten. He raised his gaze across the company of dwarves, and the blazing fire and it froze upon Elizabeth Morgan who was running her brush through her hair. His mouth parted in shock, his body straightening as bolt like white hot lightning shot down his spine and clenched painfully in his gut. It was scandalous! In the race of Dwarves, the brushing of one’s hair was a private act only meant to be shared amongst family or lovers. He stood there transfixed by the long waves of hair, its true colors flaring to life underneath the firelight. A rich golden red with hidden strands of gold. It glistened like sunlight, and looked as soft as silk. 

"By Mahal," Dwalin said, his eyebrows rose in surprise as he, like his sister sons, were watching Elizabeth brush out the tangles of her hair while she laughed at something the hobbit said. He shook his head. "I vow the lass has no modesty." One side of his mouth lifted. "I like her." 

Thorin’s jaw shut with an audible click as he gathered his wits about himself. He sent Dwalin a dry, dark glance. “You would,” Thorin stated, with a snort. He leaned back against the large boulder, the feel of solid stone a comfort and turned his gaze purposefully away from the woman. The painful clench in his gut did not ease up. “Is there a purpose for your intrusion to my thoughts, Dwalin? Or are you here simply to irritate me?” 

The big, burly warrior had the decency to look hurt. “Me? Irritate? How can you say such about your dearest and oldest friend?” Dwalin stopped. The corner of his mouth lifted into a crooked smile, one eyebrow shooting skyward. 

Thorin looked at him, his expression flat. Dwalin let out a light chuckle and patted Thorin on the shoulder. “The lads and I…were interested, is all,” Dwalin said, gruffly. 

Thorin narrowed his eyes. “In what?” His tone suspiciously light, as he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach he knew exactly what Dwalin and his sister sons were interested in. 

“Her.” 

Thorin’s eyes twisted back at Elizabeth who was now pinning her back up and out of the way. A burst of annoyance showered through him as hot as burning coals, because he knew as soon as he laid eyes upon her she would be little more than a distraction. “What of her?" Thorin asked, forebodingly. 

“She is young, yet she handles her weapons with the skill of a seasoned warrior,” Dwalin grumbled, his arms crossed over his broad chest making him look all the more intimidating. He had watched the girl with a mixture of suspicion and reluctant regard. “You did not see her when she had her arrow pointed at me, she would have shot be down without a hesitation if she thought me a threat. There have been few times that I have encountered such a fierceness in someone’s gaze.” 

“You wish to test her mettle?” Thorin arched a brow. 

“It would be interesting,” Dwalin smirked. “She is going to be traveling with us for quite a spell, and there is not better way to judge someone’s worth than in combat.” 

“And my sister sons? What is their interest?” Thorin asked, warily. His stomach twisted into a violent, burning knot that was unpleasant and unexpected. He shook his ever so slightly and pinched the bridge of his nose. He did not need his nephews acting like love struck fools, like they usually did when they saw a pretty woman. The amount of trouble the pair got into in the Blue Mountains was staggering, though Balin often reminded him it was no more than he used to get into with Fre…Thorin immediately cut the thought off. He would not allow himself to venture there. 

“I do not believe the lads are lusting after the lass, if that is your concern,” Balin walked up to his brother and his leader with a slight frown upon his face. “I believe that sense what I sense about her.” 

“And that is?” Thorin asked, quietly. Balin was wiser than any other dwarf could ever claim to be, and that is why he was Thorin’s most trusted advisor. 

“I sense something about her, and I vow I cannot put a finger to it. But 'tis strong,” Balin stated, with a solemn nod. Thorin did not deny that there was something about the girl that inspired a sense of kinship with her, though he’d wager that she did not have a spec of dwarven blood running through her veins. It was a very, very strange feeling and one he did not like it at all. 

“Aye,” Dwalin nodded. “What are you thoughts on our burglar?” Dwalin changed the subject when Thorin’s expression turned stormy. 

Thorin gave a divisive snort. “I think nothing of him. The Halfling will turn back for his green hills at the first sign of danger, mark my words,” Thorin stated, darkly. 

“Gandalf has faith in him,” Balin said, quietly. “Perhaps it would not be unwise to have a little faith ourselves.” 

“I have faith in Mahal, and my people,” Thorin looked down at Balin, his lips thinned out in a grim line. “I cannot afford to have faith in anything else.” 

Dwalin and Balin shared an exasperated look that only brothers could, but they did not say anything else. 

* * *

The moon hung high in the sky, and the stars blinked down upon their camp. Half of the company was asleep, others could not for they were unused to the unfamiliar sounds of the road. Elizabeth was still awake, dozing ever so slightly. Her mind drifted in nothingness for several seconds, then she jolted with a thunderous snore jerked her back awake. Her eyes darted around before her gaze fell on Gloin who was about six feet from where she sat. Her eyebrows shot upward as he exhaled, moths came out of his nose. _Alive!_ Her nose wrinkled slightly, in bemusement because she could not think of a conceivable way that those moths should still be alive. 

Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted Bilbo feeding Myrtle an apple. Her lips curved into a small smile. For a hobbit that had not liked the pony earlier, Bilbo had gotten over it and was whispering the animal, gently patting her snout. Brushing a loose strand of hair out of the corner of her ear, Elizabeth let out a sigh and was about to let her eyes slide back closed when a shriek pierced through the night. Alarmed, she shot to her feet because that was a sound she was all to familiar with. 

Bilbo shot away from his pony, and towards Kili and Fili who sat by the fire. The brothers shared an amused glance a split second before another scream echoed through the night. Bilbo met Elizabeth’s gaze, a silent question in his eyes. One that’s answer would be of no reassurance. 

“Orcs,” Kili breathed out, seriously. 

Behind them Thorin’s eyes snapped open at the word. His heart hammered with alarm, and he looked around, his hand upon his blade. When he saw no danger present he slumped down against the rock warily, and let out a long breath. 

“Orcs?” Bilbo’s stomach rolled. 

Fili leaned forward, his face grave. “Throat-cutters. There’ll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them,” the blond dwarf said, his blue eyes dark and wary. 

“Aye,” Kili nodded. “They strike in the wee hours of the night…when everyone is asleep. Quick and quiet, no scream--ouch!” 

“What was that for?” Fili demanded, rubbing the back of his head where Elizabeth had hit it. 

“That is enough,” Elizabeth said, a blistering cold tone to her voice. Out of all the dwarves, Fili and Kili were a couple that Elizabeth had truly gotten along with. Despite their Thorin’s glares, they still befriended Bilbo and Elizabeth. However, joking about orcs were not something she would tolerate. “We are both well aware of what orcs are capable of,” she stated, curtly. 

“We didn’t mean anything by it,” Kili said. 

“It was only a joke,” Fili added. 

“And you think that a night raid by orcs is something to laugh at?” Thorin intoned darkly. He was on his feet and stared down hard his nephews. An ugly kind of anger hit him hard, and he felt the rage trembled along his spine. Fili and Kili bowed their heads, twin expressions of shame upon their face. “You know nothing of the world,” he shook his head, with a curl of his lips and stalked past Elizabeth, who wisely stepped out of his way. 

“Don’t mind him, laddie,” Balin looked over at the boys, with a sympathetic look. “Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs.” 

“Why?” Elizabeth asked. Her eyes were on Thorin who stood on the edge of the cliff, and looked over the valley. The wind blew through his hair and his cloak swirled behind him adding a dramatic flair to the stubborn king-to-be. He was stubborn, passionate, and there was something so tragically sad about him that made her heartache. 

“After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first,” Balin said, his voice compelling and spell binding as he weaved the tale. “Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs lead by the most vile of all their race: Azog, the Defiler.” 

“Azog…” The words choked out of Elizabeth’s lips, and she stumbled backwards as if she had been physically struck. That name held more power over than she could have anticipated, as she felt her knees threaten to buckle like the world had suddenly been ripped right out of from underneath her. Bile rose to the back of her throat, she felt violently ill and a cold sweat broke out along her skin. _The Pale orc grabbed the dwarf by his hair, and brought his blade down. Screams of pure agony echoed through the cell, and Elizabeth cried because there was nothing she could to stop it. Bead fell to ground…impossibly loud._ It was only when Gandalf’s hand fell upon her shoulder did she return back to reality. She met Gandalf’s grey gaze, and she felt so shaken. It had been a long time since she had felt like this. Not even her nightmares of flames, and fire had unnerved her so. 

“The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King,” Balin continued his story, his eyes on Thorin. “Thorin’s grandfather…” 

Thorin stared out at the moon, remembering Azog’s triumphant roar as he held up his grandfather’s head. It was a sound that he would never forget, and it was a memory that could never fade away. He could see his grandfather’s head roll to his feet, the way his heart shattered in his chest. He could still feel the urge to scream in denial in the back of his throat and he sighed heavily. 

“Thrain, Thorin’s father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us,” Balin spoke, his voice was filled with such powerful grief. He fell silent for a moment to remember his fallen comrades. 

Elizabeth found herself stunned, a pang of pain echoed through her chest. It was shocking the depth of sorrow and tragedy these dwarves had to endure, and still they stood with their spirits still broken. She drew in a sharp ragged breath, and blinked hard, then brought a startled hand up to her cheek. It was wet. She was crying. When had she started crying? Her brows furrowed, and she wiped then away on the back of her hand. 

“That is when I saw him,” Balin said, and this time there was reverence in his voice. A pride swelled up in his eyes as he stared at Thorin, with a smile on his face. “A young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc.” 

Thorin remembered the blood. He remembered the clash of steel against steel as dwarves fell all around him. But most of all, he remembered the fear. The scent of it. The panic that had laced through his blood as Azog struck him down, knocking away his shield. How the he fell, and the Pale Orc had stood over him. 

“He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent…wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield,” Balin said, the admiration clear in his tone. He was not the only one that held admiration for Thorin. Every last dwarf had awoken after the brothers’ ill joke, and had heard Balin’s tale and stared at their future king with awe in their eyes. “Azog, the Defiler, learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken. Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, no song, that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King.” 

Elizabeth felt her chest swell with emotions, as Thorin turned around. His gaze filled with such tragic things, and he looked up to see the entire company staring at him with such respect and awe. It was like a balm for his wounds, and he felt his anger drain out of him in that moment. He inclined his head to all of them, in silent acknowledgement and walked between them towards the fire. 

“What…what of the pale orc?” Bilbo asked, hesitantly. Elizabeth felt her heart slam up into her throat at the question, and she held her breath, tightly coiled in her lungs. She knew what happened to him. Oh, how she knew. A shudder ran down her spine as she pressed her knuckles against her lips to hold back a noise of distress that welled up in her throat. 

Thorin paused in step, and regarded the hobbit for a long moment. “He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago,” Thorin darkly declared, his disgust and anger towards Azog evident in his voice. 

Elizabeth glanced at Thorin’s back then up at Gandalf, as if the Grey Wizard would confirm what Thorin had said. However in the pit of her stomach, she knew the horrible truth no matter how much she wished to believe otherwise. Gandalf just gave her this look, his grey eyes flat and he patted her should before he trudged back over to bedroll. 

“Are you alright?” Bilbo asked, his keen eyes taking Elizabeth’s pale pallor. 

Her eyes snapped towards him, and for a second, she was motionless before she gave a small nod. “I am fine, Bilbo,” she gave a smile, but it fell flat. “We should turn in. Morning will come sooner than you think.” 

Bilbo opened his mouth to question her further because he knew that she was far from fine. However, it was evident that she did not want to talk about it right now. And, he reluctantly he admitted, she was right. Morning would come too soon and they would once again be on the road. With a heavy sigh, he slipped into his bed and watched as Elizabeth dropped warily into hers. Bilbo sighed, and just wished that sometimes that Elizabeth wasn’t so stubbornly independent. 

As the company settled back to sleep, Balin approached Thorin. His hands were folded underneath his beard, and he looked up at Thorin who stared troubled into the fire. “Whenever something weighs heavily on your mind, Thorin, you know that I have an ear,” Balin stated, with a small smile. “I will listen, if you wish to speak of it.” 

Thorin tilted his head, his blue eyes flickered to Balin away from the flames. “I have many thoughts, Balin,” Thorin said, with a half smile. “And I fear there are not enough hours in this night to tell you them all.” 

“Then tell me the most pressing ones,” Balin retorted, lightly. 

“Have I ever told you what my father’s last words to me were?” Thorin asked, with a curious tilt of his head. 

Balin slowly shook his head. 

“Remember.” Thorin confided, his voice barely more than whisper and yet even then held strength. “A simple order, a simple request my father gave to me. Remember us…remember Erebor. Remember as you walk for days wandering, and lost. Remember the call of home. Remember the smell of pine trees on the breeze, remember the feel of the mountain stone and never forget the sight of home. Never forget it, always remember. Remember the way home for the day that you will return. It was his words that has kept me going, Balin. His words that have spurned me on. We cannot fail, we cannot falter. We have to take back Erebor.” 

“And we will, laddie,” Balin gently clapped him on the shoulder as Thorin stared down from the balcony at the waterfalls that flowed through Rivendell. “We will take back Erebor, we will rebuild our home and should any free soul come to the Lonely mountain, in all the countless centuries yet to come, and they will know the Glory of the Durin Line.” 

“The glory shall not be all mine,” Thorin gave a small shake of his head. “It shall be all of ours. There shall be songs, and poems written about the Company, and there shall be plenty of glory to go around.” 

* * *

Hours stretched out before her with seemingly no end. As if to mock her words, the morning did not come swiftly. At least, not to her. She laid in her bedroll, staring straight up at the stars with a trouble set to her lips. It was a strange, wild and savage feeling that welled up inside her chest. A fear that she hadn’t felt in so many years, a fear that she had purged to the back of her mind. How long she laid there haunted by faded memories, she did not know. All she recalled was that at some point her eyes had slid closed, then the next Bilbo was shaking her awake. The first rays of morning light were peeking over the horizon as they set off. 

Aracala was not like herself, seeing her master’s distress and slowly trotted beside the other horses showing no interest in socially as she had the previous day. Elizabeth sighed, patting Aracala’s neck gently reassuring. They finally made their way down to the bottom of the ravine, and soon they would be out of the hobbit lands completely. Bombur, Gloin and Bifur both laughed hysterically at a joke that Bofur told while Dori shook his head disapprovingly. It had been a dirty joke that made Elizabeth’s ears burn, but she bit her bottom lip to fight a laugh. 

Bilbo rode along side Bofur, and his mouth was dropped open in shock. Bofur took many deep breaths, and when he calmed himself, he clapped the hobbit on the shoulder. “Your turn, Bilbo,” Bofur nominated Bilbo, with a large grin. “Tell us a joke!” 

“Me? Tell a joke?” Bilbo sputtered. “I don’t…I don’t know any good jokes. I’m rubbish at them,” the hobbit ran a hand down the back of her neck, nervously. 

“Oh, come on,” Bofur grinned. “You must know at least one.” 

“Well, I don’t know…” Bilbo said. 

“What about the pirate one, Bilbo?” Elizabeth prompted, with a quirk of her lips. The hobbit had not gone out of his way to engage the dwarves, uncertain of how he would be received for dwarves were notorious for being suspicious and secretive. Bilbo shot her a look, and she arched a brow in return. 

“What pirate one?” Bofur asked. 

“Oh, alright,” the hobbit gave in with a heavy sigh. He fiddled with the buttons of his waistcoat nervously before he started. “The lookout sees a pirate ship sailing their way. The captain shouts to his first mate, ‘Bring me my red shirt.’ The first mate brings the red shirt and the captain puts it on, and when the pirates try to board, the brave captain leads his men to victory. A few days later, the lookout screams, ‘Two pirate ships!’ The crew is shivering like scared mice. But the courageous captain hollers, ‘Bring me my red shirt!’ After the battle, the first mate asks, ‘Captain, why do you call for your red shirt before battle?’ The captain replies, ‘So that if I am stabbed, you will not see me bleed.’” 

“Clever man,” Gloin commented, while Bifur nodded approvingly. 

Bilbo chuckled slightly, and continued. “The next morning the lookout screams, ‘Ten pirate ships! We are surrounded!’ The crew goes silent. They all look to their brave captain, waiting for his usual command. Calm as ever, the captain bellows, ‘Bring me my brown pants!’” The hobbit finished, and for a split second everything was silent. Kili was the first to break out in laughter, quickly followed by Fili then soon all of them were laughing raucously. 

Bofur almost fell off his horse he was laughing so hard. He slapped his knee, and looked up at Bilbo with his eyes sparkling in amusement. “That was a good one,” Bofur smiled, and he quirked up an eyebrow. “Know anymore?” 

Bilbo sat a little straighter in his saddle, and he gave a light shrug. “I might,” the hobbit smiled. It appeared that perhaps he had finally made a friend in the company. 

Elizabeth smiled, with a sigh falling off her lips. So far the journey had been uneventful, and luckily there had been no sign of the orcs they heard last night. The thoughts of the orcs immediately brought up even more unpleasant thoughts and her smile slipped off her face. A sense of unease loomed over her like a dark cloud, and she reached underneath the curtain of hair to the bead tied into her hair. It was one of many that she had been given to hold for safe keeping. The others had been given for her to hold on to, but this one…this one he put into her hair. The dwarf dubbed, _Charlie_ , had given her. She shot a glance at the wizard out of the corner of her eye, and frowned deeply. 

She had half a mind to confront the wizard, to seek the answer for the one question that ran through her mind over and over again. Yet at the same time she was afraid that answer, and in that instance her fear outweighed her curiosity so she kept her lips sealed. Giving a firm shake of her head, she shoved the thoughts away and focused on the road in front of her. The trees began to close in again, and then suddenly an inhuman shriek tore through the peaceful calm. Elizabeth jolted in her saddle, her head whipping away from the scenery to see Dwalin’s horse screaming and bucking violently. The dwarf was straining to hold on, while the rest of the company halted in shock. 

“What in the world--” 

“What is going on?” 

“Are we stopping?” Oin asked, loudly. 

Thorin whirled around, his hand upon his sword and his blue eyes wide in alarm. “Dwalin,” Thorin barked out. “What in the Mahal’s Halls is going on?” 

“I…don’t know!” Dwalin grunted out, his fingers holding tight to the reigns and saddle in effort not the be thrown off. “She is…not heeding me!” He yelled, and then a second later was bucked off the horse. Dwalin went soaring through the air with a loud yelp and landed face first into the ground. He gave a pitiful groan, and Elizabeth stared down at him with wide eyes. Her mouth was agape when a Aracala gave a low, pitched whine of distress and she shook off her shock. She looked at the hysterical horse, and noticed that all the horses were unsettled and looked ready to bolt at any given moment. Her inhuman eyes narrowed back on Dwalin’s horse, and that’s when she saw the source of all the commotion. As his horse lifted its front left leg, Elizabeth spied something lodged in its hoof. 

And Dwalin was still dangerously close to the flailing horse. 

“Dwalin, you need to move!” Thorin barked out. Elizabeth’s heart pounding in her chest as she watched the horse’s hind legs rear upward, and come down just inches away the dwarf’s skull. Dwalin gave a pained grunt, as a hoof smashed down onto his hand. He jerked his hand free as the horse lifted its legs, and threw his entire body into a roll in order to get away from the mad horse. 

Balin gave an audible sigh of relief, running a tired hand over his face while Thorin slid down from his saddle. In lengthy strides, he was immediately at Dwalin’s side. “Dwalin,” he said, his voice low and filled with urgency. While dwarves were built to endure and with the strength of stone in their flesh and bones, did not mean they were impervious to all injuries. “Are you alright?” 

“Aye,” Dwalin said, curling his numb fingers. The blinding pain had dwindled down to little more than an ache. He paused when he spotted Elizabeth inching closer towards the startled (and most likely wounded) horse. “The wouldn’t be a good idea, lassie,” Dwalin told her gruffly. The horse stood stock still now, it’s head bowed and it’s eyes wide with panic. It’s chest rose and fell in swift, sharp gasp as while it gave tiny, pained neighs. 

Elizabeth’s lips pursed, but she continued to edge towards the injured horse. Her movements were slow, so she did not further startled the horse. “Hey, there,” she spoke, her voice soothing and soft. “Shhh…it’s okay. It’s okay.” 

“Woman, what are you doing?” Thorin barked. She spared him a quick, narrowed eyed glance out of the corner of her eye. “Trying to get her calm down, so we can see how injured she is,” she stated, her voice flat. “Unless you have a better plan?” She arched a brow, with a dry smile. 

Thorin gave her a dark look, but said nothing. 

Elizabeth turned her gaze back to the horse, and reached out hesitantly. “Shh, shh,” she said, gently. Her finger tips ran across the horse’s long snout, comfortingly and the horse let out a small whine. “It’s alright. It’s going to be okay,” she said, now standing in front of the horse completely. She brushed her hand across the horse’s neck, and could feel the poor animal trembling with pain. Her eyes caught Thorin, and she gave a small nod. 

“Oin,” Thorin called for the healer. 

Oin dismounted, after a moment of difficulty and then trudged over to the horse. Thorin knelt down in front of the animal, and with a gentleness that Elizabeth was surprised he possessed, he carefully grasp the horse’s hoof and lifted it. “Easy…easy,” Elizabeth whispered to the horse, feeling the animal tense with panic. 

“Ah…” Oin immediately saw the problem. He would not say that he was an expert on animal, but it did not take an expert to see the jagged piece of metal sticking out of the bottom of the horse’s hoof. “That’s going to have to come out,” Oin stated, rubbing his fingers together as if debating how to go about it. “Best be ready.” 

Thorin heaved a sigh, before he planted his feet more firmly upon the ground prepared in case the horse bolted. “Do it,” Thorin ordered. 

In a swift motion, Oin grasped the piece of metal and pulled it out. The horse screamed, and reared back of its back legs. Thorin was instantly on his feet, his hand grasped Oin by the back of his cloak and the other secured around Elizabeth’s wrist. He pulled the back just in the nick of the time as the horse brought its front hooves down against the ground, the noise was almost thunderous. The horse twisted half around and cried softly, tears streaking down its face. Luckily, the horse did not bolt. 

Elizabeth stared with wide eyes, and let out a long breath. Her shoulders slumped, and she went to brush the hair out of her face however their was still a hand clasped to her wrist. She jolted a bit in shock and looked at the hand as if surprised by its existence. The long, thick fingers were rough with callous from labor and battle, and the hand was large enough that it could wrapped around her wrist twice. Elizabeth stared at it with wide eyes and then she slowly raised her gaze to said owner of that hand, and met a pair of blazing blue eyes. Thorin stared at her with an indecipherable look, and his brows pinched ever so slightly. 

Elizabeth felt her heart speed up inside her chest, and her mouth felt strangely dry. Her tongue darted out unconsciously wetting her dry lips, and she flexed her hand in his grip. “Can I have my hand back?” She asked, quietly. 

Thorin didn’t not let go her hand, not right away. The lines around his eyes tightened, as if he were just gathering together them meaning of her words in his mind and his gaze darted down to her hand wrist enclosed in his hand. He let go swiftly as if burned by dragon’s fire. His blue eyes spared her one more glance before he twisted away towards Dwalin. “What is it?” Thorin demanded, his voice was full of regal authority. 

Oin handled over the piece of metal to Dwalin for inspection. The big warrior turned the piece of metal over between his fingers. “It appears to be a piece off a wagon. A piece of a wheel barring if I am not mistaken,” Dwalin inspected the piece of metal carefully. “Shoddy craftsmanship, if you ask me,” he said, with a huff and tossed the piece of rubbish to the ground. 

Elizabeth stared at it thoughtfully then peered down at the road more carefully. There was a faint indication in the dirt road, tracks from wheels. She slowly began to follow them and frowned as she saw them veer off the road. “If that is so…then where is the wagon that it belongs?” She asked, and threw a look at the dwarves over her shoulder. 

Thorin gave her a frown. 

“Eh, it’s no business of ours,” Oin shook his head. 

“It could be if something happened to that wagon,” Dwalin stated, gruffly. “And that something happens to still be around,” he added, with a pointed look in Thorin’s direction. 

Thorin jaw clenched, as he tilted his head in consideration. He did not wish to waste time, they had wasted too much already in his opinion but, much to his chagrin, Thorin had to admit that Dwalin had a point. If there was a potential threat around then they would have to at least look into it, and he let out a growl. “Look around, see if you can spot anything suspicious,” Thorin commanded, running a wary hand across his brow. “The rest of you be prepared to press on shortly. We will have to find a place suitable to make camp. We cannot travel much farther with a dwarf on foot and an injured horse.” 

Elizabeth only faintly heard him, she was making her way off the side of the road with her hand on her blade. Judging by the wheel tracks, the wagon must have went off the road here. Yet she saw no clear side of it. 

“Do not wander off, lassie,” Balin called out to her. 

She gave a half hearted reply, but continued to venture down the hill. She heard Dwalin’s distinctive footsteps behind her, and the slight shuffle of the wind through the tall grass. Narrowing her eyes, she swept the across the fields looking for anything out of place as a strange sensation crept up on her. There was something very familiar about this stretch of land, and a sudden sense of ill ease knotted into her stomach. 

“Lass, do you see anything?” Dwalin asked her, gruffly. 

“No,” she called back. “Not ye-umph!” Her foot then unexpectedly collided with something, and she stumbled gracefully collapsing to her knees than fall out right on her face. 

And came face to face with a pair of lifeless eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to do more for this chapter, but I hadn’t updated in a while so I cut chapter 8 in half. Here’s a preview for the next chapter: The company unwitting crosses the path of something wicked, and foul and it may mean the end of them all.
> 
> Also I would like to mention there is a story on here, I will not mention names, that had plagiarized a great deal from my story. I have already alerted the Abuse Team about it, and hopefully it will get taken care of. It is a shame because that story had a great deal of potential, but I couldn't stand reading paragraphs of my own story that hadn't been changed or altered in the slightest. Maybe a sentence or two and I wouldn't mind, but this was far beyond that. So if you see this story please disregard the similarities, it's been taken care of.


	9. Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A startling discovery on the roadside preludes to a great danger ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank everyone for the comments, follows and kudos! All of you are so amazing! :D

CHAPTER NINE  
  
'SHADOWS’

Death was nothing new to Elizabeth. 

She had seen many a time in her life, it was inevitable given the longevity of her lifespan. However, coming face to face with a sightless pair of eyes startled her more than she could have ever imaged. There was a split second where pure shock left her motionless, where Elizabeth's eyes clashed with lifeless ones. Where she sat face to face with a dead woman with lips parted in a silent scream. After that split second, a yelp parted through Elizabeth's lips before she could help it and her heart leapt into her throat. 

The reactions to her scream were instantaneous. Dwalin charged through the thick wild fields, his axe held up ready to strike down any enemies, and it was not soon after that Thorin sprinted after his battle brother, his sword drawn to his side and his expression thunderous. She caught glimpse of the other dwarves all scrambling off their horses, and Bilbo shoving through the thick of them, running as fast as his hobbit legs would take him. Elizabeth's heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the lifeless face only inches from hers. The stench of death was choking, and the sounds of flies buzzing around was near deafening. Yet, she couldn't find it in her to take a step back, horrified by the sight of the dead woman's face twisted in fear. 

"You alright, lassie?" Dwalin stopped short at the sight of the corpse. "By Mahal," he breathed out, underneath his breath. 

"What is the matter? What has happened?" Thorin demanded, as he reached them. His blue eyes swept over Elizabeth still knelt there on the ground then they landed on the body, and widened ever so slightly. 

"Lassie!" 

"Is she alright?" 

"Elizabeth!" 

Elizabeth jolted, her eyes blinking hard. "I'm fine! Fine," she shook her head, and stumbled back in a half crawl. "I just was startled…" she stared down at the body, and her expression trembled. "I…I know her," she rose from the ground, her legs felt weak and a horrible confusion welled up inside of her. "Sweet Eru…I know her," Elizabeth breathed out, her eyes widening in shock and the blood drained out of her face. 

"Dolly…her name is Dolly. She and her husband are traders from Bree. They come to the Shire to pick up goods-clothes and crops." Her eyes were troubled as she traced Dolly's face that was frozen in terror. Her dead eyes were still set in fear, and her hair that only a few days before was a deep rich brown was now white as snow. "I passed them on my way to the Shire. They were heading home," she stated, her gut churning violently. Dwalin spared her a quick sympathetic glance while Thorin's jaw clenched, as his blue eyes swept across the wreckage that laid just a few feet further down the hill concealed by the swaying grass. It appeared that there had been a great struggle, but there was no blood. No clear sign of what had killed these people. "Spread out. See if you can find anything that caused this," Thorin barked out, looking around with a distrustful glance around. 

Elizabeth as much as she didn't want to looked back at Dolly, her eyes running across her body. There were no marks. There was no blood. There was nothing, but the terror on Dolly's face. It looked quiet literally like she had been scared to death. A frown marred her features, and she walked around the body when her foot hit something hidden in the grass. Reaching down, she pushed the thick grass out of the way and found a small leather bound book. It must be a journal, she thought as she picked it up. Carefully, she unclasped the fasten and flipped the book open. 

The pages weren't worn, so it had to be relatively new. Her fingers brushed over Dolly's name written in the front cover, and she hesitated because it felt like a violation privacy if she read it. However, there might be something in the journal that might indicate what happened. With a heavy sigh, she turned the page carefully. Her eyes drifted over the words, how Dolly penned about every little thing that happened (even Elizabeth was in there). Her outlook was so bright, and happy then abruptly it changed. 

_We came upon these ruins. Darrim couldn't resist poking around in them. Some days I wonder why I married him…_ She skipped over a bit. _Darrim found something. An old tablet of some sort. I told him to put it back…it had some strange writing on it… _Obviously, Dolly had began to feel something wrong. There was something different in way she wrote, the script was sharper as if she to put more effort in it. Probably to keep her hand from shaking. Elizabeth frowned deeply, and turned to the next page. _There's something unsettling about these caravan attacks. I expected bandits, but now I am not so sure. My husband, Darrim, has decided to take a longer way to Bree to avoid the main roads just in case, but I don't think we should have. There something about these woods…like something is watching us, waiting. I only hope that morning comes soon so we can leave. I do not like it here.___

She turned to the next page, but there was merely one line written on it. "The night is dark and full of terrors," Elizabeth stated, troubled. She brushed her thumb across the sentence, and flipped the page. Then again. And again, but there was nothing else. That one unsettling sentence had been Dolly's last entry. Shutting the journal gently, she stepped backwards. A strange feeling weighed down upon her shoulders, and she looked to Gandalf who made his way down the hill with the help of his staff. She walked towards him, a sense of purpose to her steps. Her face was pale, and her eyes were stark with their worry. "Gandalf…this wasn't an ordinary accident, was it?" She asked, her voice flat. 

There was a wariness and suspicion in Gandalf's gaze as he watched the dwarves start going through the wrecked wagon. There was something troubled about the wizard's expression, his brows furrowed in thought. "What makes you think that it is not so?" Gandalf inquired lightly. 

"…Dolly was just a young woman. Just turned twenty and seven last winter," Elizabeth stated, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Now, she looks like she has aged a half a century. If it were not for the fact that I knew her so well, I would not have recognized her. And there this," she held out the journal towards him. 

Gandalf frowned, clasping the book between his long, bony fingers and flipped through the pages. His grey eyes drifted over the pages, and with each page the more pronounced the lines on his face became. Elizabeth's eyebrows rose into her hairline, and her expression turned concerned. "What is Gandalf?" She asked, not completely sure that she wanted the answer. 

"Rage…" Gandalf answered, softly as he slowly closed the book. "Rage against a dying light." His grey eyes were narrowed, and his face very grim. He turned and walked over to Thorin, his staff clinking against the ground. "Thorin, we should not linger here. I believe it is best we press onward, and go as far as we can go until we no longer have daylight," the wizard stated, seriously. 

"Dwalin's horse is injured. She cannot hold a rider," Thorin reminded the wizard. His blue eyes were narrowed. The fact that something was troubling the wizard greatly was not lost on him. "We will not make far." 

"Dwalin can ride Aracala, and Elizabeth can ride with someone else," Gandalf stated, and he craned his head towards Elizabeth. "Is this agreeable?" 

"Yes…" She cleared her throat. "Yes, it is," she nodded. She agreed whole heartedly with Gandalf that they had to get away from this place. They were near the Withywindle valley, one of the most strangest parts of the whole woods. And dangerously close to the Barrow-Downs, if Elizabeth was correct. A chill ran down her spine, and she was suddenly hyper aware of her surroundings. She had heard stories of the Barrow Downs, things made from nightmares lived down there. 

Thorin eyed her and the wizard for a long moment before he inclined his head. "Very well," he agreed. 

* * *

The dwarves worked with a surprising swiftness, and had went through the wreckage, but found nothing clue as to what happened to Dolly. Or the whereabouts of her husband. In the end, they had built a makeshift burn pile and laid Dolly's body on to. As black smoke drifted upward into the sky, they set off. Elizabeth eyes flickered back to the fire with a heavy heart as the other mounted their steeds. It was not the first time that she had seen a makeshift funeral for a body on the side of the road. In fact, it happened more often than not. Travelers disappearing all the time, never to be heard from again. It had never happened to someone she had known though. 

"Miss Elizabeth, who are you riding with?" Ori asked, a bit concerned. 

Elizabeth turned with a light frown in his direction before she comprehended his words. "Oh…right. Forgot about that," she stated, with an attempt an a grin. It fell flat. 

Her gaze flickered towards the company, and she did not know who she would ride with. She knew she could not ride with Aracala with Dwalin. Aracala was a sturdy horse, there was no doubt, but the weight of both she and Dwalin would tax her too much. Bilbo's pony was out, right off the bat. The thing was tiny, probably meant only for a packing mule though it was the perfect size for the hobbit. She knew Kili and Fili would offer, however she had a feeling that would more of a hassle than it was worth. The others, she wasn't sure if they would offer or feel particularly comfortable with her riding with them. "I guess whoever is brave enough to put up with me," she told the young scribe, with a half of a smile and shrug of her shoulder. 

When Fili and Kili started riding towards her with twin grins that spelled nothing, but trouble, she nearly resigned herself to having to ride with one of the two. However, an unlikely hero came to her aid. A hand was held out towards her, she saw it out of the corner of her eye and everything seemed just to stop. Fili and Kili looked shocked, and Ori gave little squeak. Dwalin arched a brow, and Balin smiled ever so slightly. Bofur chuckled, while Bilbo looked as stunned as Elizabeth felt. 

She stared up at Thorin Oakenshield, who held out his hand towards her as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He held out his hand wordlessly to her, and for a moment she is struck silent. No witty comment, or question came to mind as she stared at him with wide eyes. When his brows start to become pinched with a heavy scowl, she is pulled out of her stupor and slowly she placed her hand into his. His hand is such a sharp contrast to hers, though she is not certain why she noticed that. Thorin helped her onto the horse and she settled in front of him. He radiated warmth like the sun, which struck her as odd since he had such a cold disposition. It was like his heat wrapped around her, and the scent of leather and armor mixed with a deep, musky smell that had her mind drew pictures of mountains. 

A breath shuddered through, and she realized that she sitting as if she were made from stone. Forcing herself to relax in the saddle, and unavoidably against him, she brushed her out of her face. "Thank you," she murmured, quietly after a long moment. 

"…Your are welcome," he finally said, after a moment then he silently urged the horse forward. She jolted slightly, alarmed by the sudden burst of movement and grabbed onto the saddle horn to keep herself steady. The weight of the others stares were upon, and while it did unnerve her a bit, she felt a bit relieve to know that she wasn't the only one stunned by Thorin's actions. Dwalin sped up to ride along side of them, and tossed Thorin a look with an eyebrow arched before he offered some comment, in their own language. Elizabeth had no idea what he said, but something about his tone made her feel distinctly uncomfortable and a flush appeared on her chest. She wasn't the only one that found Dwalin annoying in that moment. She felt Thorin stiffen behind her and had no doubt his signature scowl was pointed in Dwalin's direction. 

The company rode onward after that in a somber kind of silence, and it was a striking contrast to when they had set out. Elizabeth only hoped that this was not a sign of things that were to come. 

* * *

A rider rode against the dying light of day as swift as his stead would take him. His grey eyes were locked on the distant horizon as his jaw clenched with determination. Sweat poured down his brow matting his long dark hair onto his face, and his lips thinned out. "Yah! Yah!" He urged his horse faster. He wished to make it to Bree before nightfall. 

There were many troubling things that lingered in the shadows. 

And he wished to encounter none of them. 

* * *

The day was coming to a quick end. The traveling had been wary on all of them with the tension lingering upon there shoulders. Elizabeth the wariest of them all. The words from Dolly's journal kept repeating through her mind, and when she managed to turn her thoughts else, they fell upon Thorin. His presences surrounded her, and it was hard to escape it considering that he sat right behind her. "You find the silence unnerving," Thorin finally spoke, and it took Elizabeth a moment to realize that it was not her imagination. 

"I am not unused to silences. It has been a companion to me several times, especially when I travel alone," Elizabeth said, her voice soft. 

"And yet now you unnerved by it," Thorin noted, his voice was a low rumble. As much as he prided himself on control, he could not ignore Elizabeth's presence during the ride today. The way her slender body that her thin leather armor did nothing to hide pressed against him as intimately as only a lover would. The way the wind picked up the silkly loose strands of her hair, and tease them across his face. Her scent had enveloped him, a soft purely female scent with the hint of earth. Her frame was lithe and delicate like a bird's, she was so small compared to him making him feel like a giant who could easily swoop her away. It was a strangely powerful feeling, one that threatened to consume his thoughts. He squeezed the key between his fingers, so painfully tight the metal bit into his flesh. Quite a feat for something to break a dwarf's skin. 

"Why join this quest? Why help us get out home back?" He needed to know her reasons, something inside of him demanded to know them. 

Elizabeth looked at him over her shoulder with a pair of wide eyes as if stunned. Then she tilted her head, the silk strands of her hair gently shifting in the gentle wind. "I gave my word," she stated, a gentle frown tugged on the corners of her lips. "Is that not a good enough reason?" 

"I have found the word of men means nothing," Thorin stated, his eyes flashed with bitterness and past slights. 

Elizabeth arched a brow. "Lucky for that I am not a man," she said, carefully. She shifted carefully in the saddle, trying not brush up against him. It really didn't work. "You may not believe the merit of my word, Master Oakenshield, and that is your right. However, it is my right to prove you wrong and prove you wrong I shall." 

"Such honeyed words," Thorin murmured. "However, whether you will stand by your word when the times comes is something yet to be seen." 

"The journey is still young. I have a feeling there are many things that are yet to be seen," Elizabeth said, archly. She looked around with a lazy kind of gaze though she was actually hyper aware of her surrounding. "My reasons for coming are my own. Maybe one day if you're lucky…I'll share them with you." 

Thorin hummed underneath his breath, before he scanned the area carefully with his blue eyes. "Halt!" He called out the rest of the company and drew his stead to a stop. "We shall stop here for tonight," he ordered, his voice brokering no argument or protests. 

There were murmurs of relief that floated through the group, and Dwalin looked the most relieved. Aracala was overly excited when meeting new people so she had been rambunctious when the dwarf got on her saddle. _He probably was afraid off getting thrown off a horse again, _Elizabeth mused with a slight smile of amusement. She started to get off the saddle, then paused when Thorin's hand landed on her waist to help steady her. His hand felt like brand, and burned even through the clothes she wore. The unexpected sensation drew a gasp from her lips, and she tossed him a look. His face was expressionless, but he drew his hand back quickly as if she were wildfire and he had been burned.__

Elizabeth dropped down from the horse, and immediately found it easier to breath. Brushing the loose strands of her hair out of her face, she walked over to Bilbo who after a couple of tries finally made it off of his pony. Myrtle nickered at her approached, and she reached out, petting the pony's snout. "You alright, Bilbo," Elizabeth inquired, gently. "The first days of riding can be a bit…trying." 

Bilbo knew exactly what she meant. His legs felt numb, and his thighs sore. "I wish I could walk," he sighed, heavily. 

"It will pass, I promise," Elizabeth gave him a smile. "Besides, I know for a fact that you've already become fond of dear Myrtle here. Sneaking her treats when you think that no one is looking," she teased him, and the hobbit turned red. 

"I didn't know anyone was watching," Bilbo said, quietly while fiddling with the buttons of his jackets. 

"Not anyone. Just me," Elizabeth assured him, with a laugh. "How are you doing? Really?" She asked, her eyes very serious. 

Bilbo ran his fingers through his curls, a bit a tiredness around his eyes. "I feel very thing…sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread," he tried to describe the feelings that were welled up inside his chest. He hadn't seen a dead body since…since the Fell Winter. It had not been easy to see that body. It had shocked him down to his core. "Oh, how I wish I was at home, with the kettle just beginning to sing." 

"And what shall you do, Bilbo Baggins?" Gandalf appeared at their sides. "Go back? That would be no good at all. Go sideways? That's impossible. Going forward is all we can do now, Master Baggins. The journey may have only just begun, but we have taken took many steps already. We could not take them all back if we tried." 

"All I wanted was a normal life," Bilbo bemoaned. 

"My dear hobbit, when are you going realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue?" Gandalf drew himself to his full height to peer down his nose at the hobbit. "In fact, it denotes a lack of courage!" 

Bilbo looked at him, stubbornly. "Well, it's what I wanted…" 

"And yet you came anyways," Elizabeth said, with an easy smile. 

"Only because I was bamboozled by the two of you!" The hobbit stated in a furious whisper. 

"Halfling!" Thorin called out. Bilbo jumped, and looked at Thorin with wide eyes. 

"Go with Dwalin, and help him gather firewood," the Leader of the Company ordered, his voice firm and his eyes dared for the hobbit to argument. "Kili, Fili, take care of the horses. Bombur, Dori, it will be your duty to prepare the evening meal. I leave it to the rest of you to set up camp while I go to scout the perimeter." 

"Alone?" Elizabeth spoke up. She already had reservations about this place, and they only grew tenfold now that the group separated to go about their task. "You cannot not go alone. It is not safe. What if danger befalls you?" 

Irritations flashed through him, whitehot and sudden. Her words had hit his pride, and he immediately felt annoyance. Did she think him some milk drinker incapable of wielding a blade? "Then I will face it as I have faced every other danger that has come my way. With a shield at my hand, and sword buried in their chest," Thorin stated, his voice so cold that it could have frozen the fires of Mordor. 

"Then do it with someone at your hand," Elizabeth demanded. "You cannot go in those woods al-" 

"Do not presume that you hold so much value to this company that you can speak to me in such a manner. I am the Leader of this company, and I have made my decision. It is final," Thorin stated, darkly. He gave her one last sharp look before he stalked into the woods. 

"I…" Elizabeth looked faintly stunned. His anger hit her hard than a fist would have, and it was feeling that Elizabeth did not care for one bit. "I don't understand. What just happened? I was merely speaking out of concern," she looked to the others for clarification. No one offered her a reply right away, instead they went about her tasks. 

"It is a matter of pride, Miss," Ori was the only one to speak up. 

"Pride?" Elizabeth's brows pinched together. 

"Aye," Dwalin nodded. 

"Thorin is a warrior. He has lead his people through dark times since he was merely a child himself, and there are few that surpass his skill in combat. You words of concern, could easily be misconstrued as doubt of his prowess. For one who prides him on his strength, he would have taken your words as a slight," Gandalf explained, in a whisper. 

"But that is not what they were," Elizabeth did not like the thought that Thorin would take her words in such a way. She knew not why it left her with such a sinking feeling in the pit of stomach, but it did. 

"I am aware of that. Thorin is just a stubborn dwarf and set in his ways of seeing enemies everywhere and holding distrust for all. Once he clears his mind, and allows himself to see past it, he will see that your words bore no harm. And perhaps he will admit to what truly troubles him," Gandalf murmured the last bit underneath his breath, with a mysterious gleam in his eye. He then cleared his throat, and gathered himself. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have business to attend to." 

Elizabeth and Bilbo both turned towards the wizard. "Business?" Elizabeth parroted, with her hands on her hips. 

"What kind of business could you be attending to in the middle of nowhere?" Bilbo asked, looking a bit flummoxed. 

"The kind of business that is only for a wizard to know," Gandalf huffed, haughtily. He drew himself and walked past them, his grey cloak flapping about dramatically. 

Elizabeth stared after him. "I will never understand that man," she stated, with a slow shake of her head. "Probably for the best." 

Bilbo silently agreed. 

* * *

Night was nearly upon them now. The jagged view of distant mountains set before the blazing sun while Elizabeth finished bandaging up Dwalin's horse's hoof. A fondness swelled up in her chest for it reminded her of her younger days in Rivendell where she was taught how to tend to the animals, and care for them. It was a short sweet respite because as soon as she was done, the feeling of unease fell back upon her shoulders. Perhaps it was because she was about twenty feet from the rest of the group, or the shadows of the woods just yards away. Elizabeth dismissed both from her head immediately. She had traveled alone before. The lack of company would not affect her so, and she had long since grown used to shadows. 

Lips tilted downward in a frown, she made her way back towards the camp. Her eyes searched for a familiar star shaped head of hair, and she found him. Nori was leaning against a tree, cleaning the gunk out from underneath his fingernails with a sharp knife. How he did not cut himself was beyond her. She came to a halt right beside him, carefully not to intrude too much upon his personal space because she had the feeling that Nori would not like that. "Master Nori," Elizabeth greeted, her voice low and quiet. 

"Miss Morgan," Nori greeted her, just as carefully. His eyes took in all that surrounded him and Elizabeth had a feeling little escaped his notice. 

"The sharpness of your eyes and the keenness of your ears are only outmatched by the swiftness of your hands," Elizabeth noted, with a quirk of her lips. 

"My what a compliment. I do believe you've turned my ears red." Nori arched a brow, though a trace of smugness appeared on his face. "Been listening to some whispers have you?" Nori asked, with a half smile. 

"I do not need rumors to learn what I see with my own eyes," Elizabeth flashed him a toothy smile. "And do not fear, I shall not hold your occupation against you. I understand that sometimes what we chose to become is out of hands, especially when hard times fall upon us." 

"Very kind words," Nori mused. "But one has to wonder why you are giving them to me so freely." 

"Perhaps not freely," Elizabeth admitted, with the grace to look sheepish. "I come to seek your advice on something that feel is gravely important." 

"Indeed? I daresay if you've come to seek advice or bouts of wisdom, you'd have better luck with the wizard…or my brother, Dori. He prides himself on giving the best advice," Nori stated, with a snort. 

"It is not the kind of advice that the wise or the more moral inclined can provide. You notice things that other would miss, and while I pride myself on being observant, there is something that I cannot pinpoint that is troubling me," Elizabeth fiddled with the pouch she had her father's pocket watch in. 

"Ah," Nori nodded, understanding. "Thorin has that affect on most people." 

Elizabeth jerked, and sent him a startled look. "Thorin? Who said this has anything to do with Thorin?" She asked, baffled. 

"It doesn't?" Nori blinked, innocently. Too innocently. 

Elizabeth shot him a flat look. "The woods," Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest. "I was talking about the woods. Do they not unnerve you? Even in the slightest?" 

"If the woods unnerve you so, don't you think that traveling is not for you?" Nori said, amused. He gave a laugh when Elizabeth gave him a dry glare. "In the sake of seriousness, we dwarves are more in tune with stone rather than the earth and…greenery." He gave a slightly disdainfully glance at all the green. "However…I cannot deny that there is something about the shadows that…does not feel right." 

Elizabeth felt marginally better, now that she knew that she was not the only one that felt this sense of unease. Her eyes raked across the rest of the camp, and across the dwarves who were busy with settling down. Bombur sat in front of the pot, with Kili by his side who looked eager to be the first one to taste the delicious stew. Bifur sat beside Dori who stitching up some of Ori's while the scribe busily wrote in his book. Gloin was proudly showing off the picture of his wife and son to Oin, and that when Elizabeth noticed that some of their company was still missing. "Has neither Thorin, nor Dwalin and Biblo return yet?" She frowned. 

"No," Ori spoke up, his quiet voice surprisingly loud. "Gandalf hasn't returned, either." 

Gandalf was not surprising. Once he got caught up in wizard business, he had a habit of disappearing time to time. She gave a small shake of her head. "What of Bofur and Fili?" Elizabeth asked, straining to catch a glimpse at them moving through the woods. 

She saw nothing. No movement at all. Neither dwarf, or animals. Her gut twisted into knots. 

"Bofur and Fili went to…" Bombur paused, a dust of red appeared on both of his cheeks. "To relieve…" 

Elizabeth spared him. "I understand," she gave a small nod. "However, they should have all returned by now." She scanned the surrounding area with her eyes, and begun to strap on her weapons. 

"Lassie…" Balin looked at her with a frown. "You believe that something is wrong." 

She paused, and looked over Balin. She could not hide the worry from his knowing gaze, and nodded. "Yes. I do feel that something is wrong," she admitted, after a long moment. "I have felt something has been wrong since we came across that accident." 

"She is not the only one," Nori spoke. Elizabeth looked faintly surprised by his open show of support, but gave him a grateful look nonetheless. 

"Wrong?" Dori reached out, and tugged Ori to his side. "What kind of wrong? Dangerous wrong?" 

Elizabeth felt a bit overwhelmed by the stares that rested upon her, and inanely she wondered how Thorin did not crack underneath the weight of them. She drew in a large breath, and placed her hands on her hips. "I am not sure, and I have not the time to debate the possibilities. We have to find the others, while we have precious daylight left." She glanced over the horizon where the sun was quickly dipping behind. _They thrive…in shadows… _.Lady Galadriel's voice came to her, and a shiver ran down her spine. "Stay away from the shadows," Elizabeth said, a bit dazed.__

"Away from the shadows?" Kili looked lost. "I don't understand." 

Elizabeth looked at him, then at the other dwarves and left out a large sigh. "Neither do I," she admitted, with a troubled sort of smile. "But I do now when I'm not entirely sure of the situation, I follow my gut instinct. That is telling me that we should not wander aimlessly in the shadows. It is best the rest of you stay together. There is safety in numbers." 

"The lass is right," Balin said, heavily. "We cannot be running around in the woods without a wit about us. It is best we stay here and send a scout to look for the others." 

"And you have one," Elizabeth slung her bow and arrows over her shoulders. "I shall go look for the others. I am a decent tracker." 

"You should not go alone," Balin protested. "We agreed that if anyone left the group, they were to go with someone else." 

"I know, Master Balin. But we cannot risk anymore getting lost," Elizabeth told him, firmly. "I appreciate your concern, Balin. But I can take care of myself, and I've been taught to track whether by the sun or by the moonlight. I'll find the others, and we shall find our way back." 

Balin stared at her for a long moment before he gave a firm nod. "Very well. I pray that swiftness by on your side because if you are not back soon, lassie, we shall send someone one after you," Balin warned her, with a stubborn tilt to his chin. 

Elizabeth inclined her head, with a smile on her face and she turned to leave when Bombur called out for her. "Yes, Bombur?" She turned to look at the red headed dwarf. He grunted and made hand gestures at Bifur whom pulled out a torch from his bag. Bifur handed the torch to Bombur, who lit it with the campfire and then held it out towards Elizabeth. 

"You say we should not be in shadows," Bombur said, perhaps a bit sheepish. "Neither should you. In case the day passes before you find the others." 

Elizabeth looked stunned then smiled. "Much obliged, Master Bombur," she said, gratefully. "Your kindness is much appreciated." And with that, she turned and stalked into the woods. 

When she had been gone for barely over a minute, Dori spoke up, "Surely we are not going to let the lass run off by herself?" 

"Of course not," Balin rolled his eyes. "Master Nori, if you will." 

Nori's face split into a quick smirk, and he gave a jaunty salute. Then in the next second, he melted into the shadows and was gone. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER!  
> Yep, Elizabeth going off on her own. Not very bright on her part, but her reason will be explained in the next chapter. Ugh! I expected to have written the Company in Bree by now, but this chapters turned out to be longer than I had anticipated. I had to cut into three separate chapters. This one, the next one, and the one after that we will have the company in Bree! Alright, now that my rant is over. I hope you all enjoyed.  
> Quiz: Can you guess what is responsible for the accident, and the danger that may befall the group? (It is something Tolkien wrote about, and I'll give you a hint…FotR. If you can you will get to name an OC that will appear in Bree.)  
> Rrs are appreciated, and always answered! :D


	10. The Barrow Downs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Bofur's lives hang in the balance while Thorin and Elizabeth confront an ancient evil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank mehg11, EbonyLeijon, edelweissmaia, DanteOphydian, RegalMagnus, fairykia, Elashor_Seger, Dances_With_Vulcans, candy_hearts, i11iad, AgentLilyAEvans, and hwinde as well as 29 guests who gave kudos! I really appreciate it!
> 
> The winner of the questions, and who has the rights to rename the OC Eleanor Woodbine, is Lalaithiel! Just let me know what hobbity name you come up with so I put in the next chapter. :D
> 
> THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT! GLAD YOU ALL LIKE THE FIC! :D This chapter was inspired by the song ‘Nocturnus’ and ’Catacombs’ by Adrian Von Ziegler. It’s a dark instrumental piece that had the feeling that I feel this chapter should have. Go check him out on you tube, his music is worth and I have even subscribed to his page because he is so fantastically talented. :D

CHAPTER TEN  
  
‘The Barrow Downs’

The daylight was going, and going, and was nearly gone. The uneasiness that had plagued her for so long only grew as the shadows grew with each passing minute. Elizabeth’s heart beat was a steady rhythm in her chest, kept even with the slow intake and release of her breaths. Her eyes were wide and swept over the landscape with more than a little tension running through her body. _“Panic is your enemy in a fight,”_ Glorfindel once told her. _“It will make you erratic, careless, and threat to overwhelm you. You must never give into panic. You must be stronger than your fear.”_

That however did not stop the initial response. She could feel the tension coil along her limbs, threatening to seize her and still her reasons. There was something about this uneasy feeling that felt so familiar like she knew what it was, but she was too afraid to admit it to herself. The dry grass cracked beneath her feet as she crouched down, trying to draw unwanted attention. She tried to make out the dwarves, spot them anywhere. However, she saw nothing. Her stomach twisted violently, and she licked her parched lips. She drew in a long breath, and let it out slowly. There was a wrongness, she felt it in the air and felt it tremble within the ground beneath her feet. A darkness that toiled from some place deep within. 

She jolted when her foot hit something. She jerked her gaze downward, and frowned deeply when she looked at the stone. It was smooth, and squared. Not by the means of nature, but by the hand of man. Lightly with her fingers, she pried the stone from the ground and flipped it open. Her mouth parted ever so slightly at the crudely carved message on the other side. 

  
_Let this place be forgotten forever.  
_

_Let it be struck from the rolls of history._

_Let it never be spoken of by man or elf._

_Let its very name be lost to the ages_

That wasn’t exactly comforting. 

Elizabeth stared down at the stone, a scowl twisted across her face. She would bet money that this is the totem that Dolly mentioned in her journal. Her eyes narrowed, and she started forward this time with more haste. The hair on the back of her neck was raised in warning for all of this reeked of danger. Once again, she wished that Gandalf had not wandered off. Perspiration broke along her forehead and the wind made her feel chilled to the bone. There was no dwarves. There also was no wild life. No rabbits scurrying about, no howls of coyotes in the distance. Nothing. That wrong feeling in the pit of her stomach grew tenfold. 

A twig snapped to her left. With her torch held out like a weapon, she twisted around and glared into the darkness with an expression of cold fury. “Who goes there?” She demanded, darkly as her hand went on the hilt of her sword. “Show yourself.” 

And that’s when a hobbit and dwarf stepped into the light. 

The flood of relief was instantaneous, and she rushed forward. “Bilbo,” she breathed out, and carefully pulled him into a one armed hug. Looking over his shoulder, she saw Dwalin standing there with a deep frown on his face and a pile of wood in his arms. “Master Dwalin. The others have been worried,” Elizabeth commented, breathlessly. 

“We were just on our way back,” Bilbo said. 

“They send you out here on your own, lass?” Dwalin asked, and she suddenly have a feeling that was not something he was all too happy about. 

“Yes,” she said. 

“No,” a voice above her said. 

Elizabeth jumped as Nori dropped from the tree limb above, and landed beside her. “What…do you _think_ you are doing?” Elizabeth demanded. “How long have you been following me?” _And why didn’t I notice it?_ She added, silently. 

“Since Balin told me to. About…a moment or two, after you left,” Nori easily let slip. He had a feeling that the lass was a force of nature to be reckoned with, and he would not be the one to face her wrath. 

“He said he would give me time,” Elizabeth stated, her cheeks flushed. 

“He did. He never said how long,” Nori stated, studying his fingernails with more focus than necessary. 

“Why?” Elizabeth was baffled. 

Nori shot her a look. “You did not think we would send you out here alone, did you lass? By yourself? There are many things out here that could harm a young lady like yourself,” the Master Theif stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Bilbo sighed, heavily. 

Elizabeth took in a deep breath, and pinned the thief with a glower that promised some kind of revenge. “That…isn’t important right now. Right now, we need to find the others.” 

“But you have found us,” Bilbo pointed out with a frown. 

“Not you. The others,” Elizabeth shook her head. 

“Others are missing?” Dwalin narrowed his eyes. 

“Thorin, Fili and Bofur,” Nori listed off. “Oh, and the wizard.” 

“Well, actually that might just be Gandalf,” Elizabeth stated, with a slight roll of her eyes. “He does like to go gallivanting off without warning or a moments notice, then he appears in the nick of time to save the day.” 

“I am going to assume that was a compliment, Elizabeth,” the grey wizard appeared behind her like he had been there the whole. “For wizards are subtle, and quick to anger.” 

Elizabeth jolted, and she was happy to say that she wasn’t the only one. Bilbo let out a shrill noise, and she swore the hair on his feet stood up on end. Dwalin jerked, and some of the sticks went tumbling out of his arms and onto the ground. Nori stiffened, and merely blinked like an annoyed cat. The Grey Wizard stood there, his grey eyes narrowed on the area around them with deep frown. “Have you…encountered anything?” He looked pointedly at Elizabeth. 

“Other than Dwalin and Bilbo, no,” Elizabeth said. “And Nori, who apparently falls out of trees after stalking women through the woods.” 

Gandalf paused, then shot her a look. 

“What? It’s the truth,” Elizabeth shrugged. “Ask him. He knows all about it,” she gestured with a thumb over her shoulder at Nori, who looked more amused than offended. 

“There is no time for humor, Elizabeth,” Gandalf reprimanded her gently. “There is great cause concern. Mister Dwalin, Mister Nori…take Bilbo back to the camp,” Gandalf ordered, his tone light yet it held a graveness that left Elizabeth immediately on edge. “Do so swiftly, and quietly. And do not let the flame of your torch go out, and stay in the moonlight, away from the shadows.” 

“Thankun,” Dwalin began, his tone rough. 

“Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves,” Gandalf hissed, and glared down the burly warrior. “I do not have the patience, nor the time to argue with you now! The others know not the danger that lingers here, and someone has to warn and that someone Master Dwalin is you and Bilbo. Get back to camp, stay within the light and make sure the fire is blazing. Light is the only thing shadows fear. Elizabeth and I will continue searching for the others.” 

Elizabeth stood stock still, her heart was pounding in her chest so hard that it felt like it would burst right out of her chest. The muscles in her back and neck were corded tight with tension, and fear was ripe in her heart. “We’ll find them,” she swore with a tight nod. “You three make your way back to camp. Warn the others.” 

Dwalin looked like he wanted to argue. A lot. Nori looked between her and the wizard, a bit suspiciously and more than a little wary. Bilbo just stared at her with wide terrified eyes as he realized what she was talking about. “Now, Mister Dwalin! I would think out of the two dwarves that stand before me you would listen,” Gandalf barked, his eyes narrowed into a glare. He held his staff out in a threatening manner, something the warrior dwarf did not miss. 

Nori looked affronted, then shrugged it off apparently taking it with a grain of salt. He had been called a lot worse. Dwalin narrowed his eyes like he contemplated hitting the wizard, however common sense won out and he gave a sharp nod. “Come on, Master Hobbit,” Dwalin gestured for the hobbit to follow him. “Thief,” he added, in Nori’s direction. 

Nori did not bother hiding his eye roll. 

Bilbo didn’t move right away, his wide eyes went to Elizabeth. She had not lied to him, she had told him that adventures had their dangers, but knowing that and facing it were to different things. 

“Everything will be alright, Bilbo,” Elizabeth gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. 

The hobbit frowned. His hands twisted his waistcoat button’s worriedly and he relented with a sigh. “You’d better be,” he told her, his voice sharp. “I may be Baggins, but I am also part Took and if you don’t keep your promise I will…” His brows furrowed, then he looked at her with a glare. “I will make your life miserable,” he stated, firmly. 

Elizabeth flashed him a smile. “Fair enough,” she nodded. When the trio departed, Elizabeth turned to Gandalf and the brave face she had put up cracked. _“Gandalf,”_ she murmured, in Sindirain, _“I felt a sense of unrest since we stepped into these woods. I have never felt something like this in the Shire lands before. What is it?”_

 _“We are near the Barrow Downs,”_ was all the Grey Wizard said, and he let her draw her own conclusion. 

All the color drained out of her face. _“Then we need to find the others with haste,”_ Elizabeth croaked out, her stomach twisted into violent knots. _“As much as I hate to suggest it, we will cover more ground by going separate ways.”_

 _“Do you carry the daggers that Lady Galadriel gifted you?”_ Gandalf placed a hand on her shoulder, his gaze searchingly. 

She lifted her cloak to the side to showcase the twin blades strapped to her side. _“I never leave without them,”_ she said, with a trace of a smirk. _“Be careful, Mithrandir.”_

_“I bid the same of you,”_ Gandalf stated, calmly. 

The parted in two different directions, and Elizabeth raced across the terrain as fast as her legs would take her. She knew, through stories, that Barrow Downs was a haunted, dark place filled with ghouls and death. She swept her torch left to right, she made out the silhouette of the old barrow sticking up out of the ground against the horizon. A chill shuddered down her spine as she tried to make out any sign of the others, but there was none. It could mean that they were already within the confines of the Barrow, but Elizabeth prayed to Eru that be not the case for it were the chances of getting them out of this alive became even slimmer. The closer she drew, the more a chill drew across her spine in a harsh caress. Her parting word with Gandalf playing back in her mind. 

Elizabeth had encountered the draugr before, and they had played many roles in her nightmares. She hadn’t had the means to fight them before and despite how much she tried to reassure herself, she wasn’t sure she could fight them now. She could not hide from the fear that was welling inside her chest. A crisp wind brushed her cheek, and all the hair on her neck rose up. She turned in a slow circle, she swept the torch in an arc and stared into the inky blackness that surrounded her. Her eyes narrowed, and her hand on her sword tightened belying the nerves she so desperately tried to quell. “Who’s there?” She said, her voice was brittle and constricted. 

No response. 

The hair bristled on her forearms and she drew in a deep breath. “Bofur? Fili? Thorin?” She called out, but she did not shout. Something foul stirred in the air, and in the earth. That something dark and unpleasant that had been plaguing her all along. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder, and saw nothing. No eerie green glow, nor did she see any shadow of movement. Her grip on her sword tightened, her leather gauntlets creaking with the effort and she stood still for a long moment. The only noise was the faint stirring of the tree limbs from the quiet breeze, then a twig snapped behind her. 

Instinct kicked in, and twisted around her sword ready cleave off any enemies head and came face to face with Thorin. “Yavanna’s green earth!” She exclaimed, her heart pounding in her chest. It took her a moment to catch her breath, a mixture of relief and annoyance rushing through her. She shot an accusing glance at Thorin, and demanded, “What is wrong with you? Sneaking up on me like? I could have cut off your head!” Thorin just gave her a quick glower, before he looked pointedly at the blade that was held just an inch from his neck. Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush slightly, and she let her blade fall to her side. “What is wron—” 

“Silence,” Thorin ordered, sharply. 

Elizabeth could feel the sharp retort on the edge of her tongue, but the dark expression on his face made her hold in back. Swallowing thickly, she asked, “What has happened? Where are Fili and Bofur? Are they with you?” 

Thorin gave her a cutting look. “I know not what happened, but I do have an idea where they are,” he informed her, his voice pitched barely above as whisper. 

“Where?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot upward. 

Thorin’s gaze met hers, then he looked pointedly towards the Barrows. The chill that had been ever present ever since she had seen the jagged shadows of the cairn in the distance turned her blood into ice. “I know not what has them,” Thorin said, his voice low and grim. “But I know it is not natural.” 

“Barrow-wrights,” Elizabeth breathed out. A flash of a corpses with a horrid green, unnatural glow to them moving around, their jewels and bones rattling. 

“What?” Thorin gave her a look. 

“Hobbits think them as nothing more than horror stories told to keep babes from wandering out of their beds at night,” Elizabeth spoke, her voice light and faint. “But they are much more than just stories.” 

“What are they?” Thorin demanded. 

Elizabeth gave him a sharp look, but refrained from falling into a petty argument with him like before. Lives were at stake, so grudges must be put aside. “Beings that cannot stand the light, they fester only in darkness. They steal your will by whispering words, or promising you everything you ever wanted. The hobbits know them as the Barrow-Wrights, but elves, dwarves and men know the by another,” she said, her lips twisted down in disgust and fear. “The Draugr, servants of the Witch King.” 

Thorin felt as if he had been slashed through the gut with an axe, as stories told by old warriors--believed to senile or driven mad—flooded through his mind and he ground his teeth together because all of those stories ended in tragedy. He made to march towards the cairn, but Elizabeth grabbed his by the collar jerking him a halt. “What do you think you are doing?” He growled out. 

“Stopping you from doing something incredibly stupid,” Elizabeth growled back, but hers was not nearly as intimidating as Thorin’s. “The Draugr cannot be fought by regular weapons or blades. You would be killed or fallen under their spell before you made it into the passage,” she told him, breathlessly. Reaching into her cloak, she pulled a blade that was secured to her side and placed into Thorin’s hand. 

His sharp, blue eyes narrowed upon the dagger as his lips curled upward. “This is of elvish make,” Thorin glowered at the dagger she placed in his hand. 

“Yes, the dagger was crafted by elves and imbued with magic by a very special elf lady. It can wound or kill a draugr unlike the ones you carry,” Elizabeth explained, firmly. She saw the revulsion on his face and could see that he wished for nothing more than to simply crush the blade in his hand. “Oh, by all means use your weapons,” she stated, blithely. “You, however, will not get far and you will be of no use to Fili or Bofur if they have truly been captured.” 

Thorin locked his jaw, and glared at her as if it were at fault for all of this. However, he reluctantly kept the dagger. “Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Elizabeth almost said something scathingly in reply, but merely gave him a sour glance and followed him. Each step that drew them closer to the cairn, the temperature plummeted and Elizabeth could not repress the shiver that ran down her spine. Elizabeth would not say she was fearless, she knew she wasn’t. But she had always thought that she did not let fear guide her, or get to her. 

She could not say that in this moment. Fear ran through her blood like a living thing, and she found herself envious of the calm exterior that Thorin managed to keep up. The only give away that he felt anything, but calm were his two blazing eyes that stared down the stone structure with anger and wariness. The archway was large and intimidating and the large metal doors were already opened. “Woman,” he barked out, suddenly. 

Elizabeth shot him a look. “Dwarf,” she barked back. He gave her a glance over his shoulder. “You fight with elvish weaponry. Is it safe to assume that you also speak their flowery language?” His upper lip curled ever so slightly. 

“…Yes, I speak it,” Elizabeth frowned. 

“Then what does that say?” Thorin pointed to the pillar. 

Elizabeth twisted her head, and narrowed her eyes. Indeed, there were words written there, carved into the stone. Her eyebrows rose into her hairline. Wetting her lips with her tongue, she took a hesitant step forward. “Ye who enter here, know: This place was sealed at great price. Honor those who lie here. Turn back, and leave them to their rest,” Elizabeth translated outloud, quickly. Her gaze flickered towards Thorin, her lips dipped into a frown. “It is the resting place of many men of the north, several of the Dunedain. Dark spirits have long since made it their home.” 

Thorin grunted in reply, and stepped forward. He had ever encountered such a sensation like the one when he felt once he stepped foot into the tomb. A darkness, so vile and sickening, that it turned his stomach. There was only one thing that had ever made him feel this level of fear and biting anger. A Pale Orc astride a White Warg, and Thorin hastily shoved that image to the back of his mind where it was better left. His eyes were heavy with suspicion at every shadow they passed, and he had the strangest sense of the walls pressing in on him. Surrounding him like foes coming in all around from every side. His gaze raked over the dead laid to rest in enclosures built into the walls. They were little more than lifeless skeletons, and yet Thorin felt a sense of unease from looking at them. He turned his gaze off of them, and focused on the path ahead. 

Elizabeth had slid her sword back into its scabbard then pulled out the twin to the dagger she had given Thorin, and held it out in front of her. She forced her breaths to even out, and focused on the path in front of her. _Get Fili and Bofur then run like hell,_ she told herself. It sounded like a mighty fine plan if she did say so herself as her eyes swept from side to side. The walls were made from a dark, nearly coal black stone, and she felt something within those walls. Something shift, something unnatural permeating form within. Her fingers were going numb with how hard she was gripping the dagger, and she just prayed they made it out of here alive. 

That’s when she heard it. The unmistakable sound of bones rattling, and she stiffened. In front of her Thorin froze, his spine straight like arrow and his eyes narrowed at the passage way to the right. When he saw a greenish glow, he seized Elizabeth by the wrist and dragged her through a passage way off to the side. She gave a slight yelp, but did not protest when they hide in the shadows just out of sight. At the angle they were at, she could not see the draugr only the faint, haunting green glow as the creaking of bones. Her heart pounded in her chest, as she heard it grow closer and closer. Her teeth were gnashed together so tightly that her entire jaw went numb, and she felt something run across her mind. Like fingertips dancing across her brain, and Elizabeth immediately recognized the sensation for what it was. 

The draugr’s thrall. It came off the draugr in waves, fishing for victims to enslave. She felt the sensation painfully plunge into her mind, an attempt to steal her will as the breath was knocked right out of her. If she hadn’t known what the feeling was, it would have certainly worked. Instead, it was just a horrible mind numbing pain. She clenched her eyes closed, and forced herself not to scream. If she screamed, then the draugr would certainly know they were here. She trembled with the effort, and resisted the urge to rush out there and stab the creature to death to end her torment. But that would give them away, and if they were given away then Fili and Bofur’s lives would be forfeit, she had no doubt. 

The green glow began to fade as did the painful tug on her mind, and she slid her eyes open. Dazed and tired, Elizabeth looked up at Thorin and her heart clenched. She saw his blue eyes darken and glaze over, and fear bolted through her as swift as lightning. She drew in a sharp breath, her mind going a million miles in a split second and she did the first thing that she could think of. Her hand reached up, and she knotted her knuckles into his short beard as best she could, and yanked with all her might. In a split second, the haze fell from his eyes and his mouth parted in what appeared to be shock before his hand jerked upward, closing around her wrist painfully. 

A shocked gasp parted her lips, and her eyes widened. “What are you—let go!” Elizabeth demanded, in a heated whisper trying to pull her hand free of his grasp. 

Thorin did not. Instead, his grip became so painful that her fingertips started to lose all feeling in them. “You touched my beard,” Thorin looked positively incensed and scandalized. 

“No,” Elizabeth denied, with a whine. “I yanked on your beard. There is a difference! Now let me go, or else!” She hissed through clenched teeth. The dagger in her free hand quivered as she contemplated nipping him slightly with it in order to get him to back off. 

“You _touched_ my beard.” 

“Oh, for Eru’s sake!” Elizabeth sighed, heavily and glowered at him. “You were about to succumb to the draugr’s spell, I had to do something! Grabbing your beard was the first thing that came to mind! It wasn’t like I was trying to stick my hand down your under things,” she stated, exasperatedly. 

Thorin’s eyes narrowed as he searched her for in sign of deceit then he took her hand away from his face, in a jerky movement. He released her hands as if it burned and stiffly turned away from her. “It has passed now,” he stated, his voice a rumble. “We should proceed.” 

“Whatever you say,” she said, twisting her wrist. There would definitely be a bruise there tomorrow. She added some choice words under her breath that described exactly what she thought of him, but she followed him down the hallway in crouch nonetheless. At the far end of the hallway was a doorway that lead to another chamber. Elizabeth breath stuttered ever so slight, and her fingers tightened around her dagger seeking solace in the weapon. “Careful,” she whispered out as Thorin reached the threshold. He sent her a look out of the corner of his eye before he looked forward, and cautiously made his way into the room. The shadows cloaked the room in darkness except the altar that stood tall in the center of the room. It was made completely from bones. Skeletons stretch out with their arms raised upward like they were holding up the ceiling, and their feet stood upon an altar made out of broken bones. Arms, legs, and rib bones created the base. 

And lying upon that altar draped in jewels, staring lifelessly up at the ceiling were Bofur and Fili. Elizabeth felt as if she had been punched in the gut, and Thorin went still at her side. “Are they…oh, Valar, are they…” Elizabeth was afraid to ask. 

Thorin did not answer right away, his eyes narrowing upon his nephew’s chest and held his breath. Several seconds ticked by then Fili’s chest rose then fell with a shallow breath, and Thorin felt himself slouching against the wall in relief. They were alive. _For now,_ his mind added, grimly. He prepared to rise from his crouch when Elizabeth grasped his arm tightly. He craned his head towards her with a question upon his lips when he saw the frantic look in her eyes as she pressed a solitary finger to her lips in an order of silence. His brows furrowed, and then… 

Then he heard it. 

The clank of jewel—made from metal and bones—as the unmistakable sound of bones creaking in movement towards them. And a chant, from voices that drained all the warmth right out of his bones. The mantra echoed off the walls: 

_Cold be hand and heart and bone,_

_And cold be sleep under stone._

Elizabeth felt her heart leap into her throat as she twisted around to peer at the dark hallway behind them, and slowly a greenish glow began to encompass the passageway. “They’re coming this way!” She said, in a urgent whisper. 

“Move,” Thorin ordered, his hand hauling her to her feet and they stumbled into the chamber. His eyes swept around the room until he found a corner, concealed by a wall filled with dead. “There! Go!” 

Elizabeth followed without hesitation, and squeezed into the spot behind the wall. Thorin followed, pressing his back against the wall. The space left little room to move, Elizabeth and Thorin only inches apart. She could feel the rise and fall of Thorin’s chest against her back and his warm breath spilled across the nape of her neck. As the chant grew louder both of them went as still as possible, and neither one of them breathed. 

_Never more to wake on stony bed,_

_Never till the Sun fails and the moon is dead._

Elizabeth saw them, through the cracked spaces in the wall. They are tall, slim skeletal undead beings with pale, wrinkled skin and gaunt forms. They were covered in ragged and broken armor with jewels stolen from the dead or made from the bones of their victims hung from their necks. In their hand’s were weapons, sacrificial swords that were caked in dried blood. __

_In the black wind the stars shall die,_

_And still be gold here let them lie,_

_Till the Dark Lord lifts his hand,_

_Over dead sea and withered land._

Elizabeth swallowed thickly when the chant came to an end, everything in her body telling her to bolt as a cold, sweat broke out along her spine. The draugr’s jaws worked slowly with an ominous creaking with anticipation a meal and they headed towards the altar. She tensed, and Thorin’s hand landed on her shoulder. To hold her back, or to keep himself from rushing forward—she did not know. “There are three of them,” Elizabeth counted, her heart slammed against her ribs, thumping an erratic rhythm as adrenaline coursed through her veins. “They appear to be rather weak…” She commented, noting the shaky way the draugr paced around the altar as they started their ancient ritual. 

“Then we divide and conquer,” Thorin stated, his lips twisted downward. “If we can dispatch two of them, then the third should be less trouble.” 

_Hopefully._

The word was not spoken out loud for it would give away the uncertainty, and neither of them could afford that. Elizabeth’s tongue darted out to wet her dry lips, and gave a small nod. Thorin leaned forward, his breath hot breath scalding against her ear and she was hyper aware of his presences right behind her. “You go left, and I will go right? Understood?” His voice was thick with emotions, and the hand on her shoulder tighten. 

“Yes,” she nodded, quickly. She understood his urgency, and his anxiousness. She felt it herself, though she was no near as good as hiding it as Thorin was. 

She made no attempt to hide. It would do no good. The only choice they truly had was to attack, and attack fast. She ran forward as fast as her legs would carry her, and the draugr twisted around to face her. She had forgotten how truly terrifying they were. The years had blurred them into faint phantoms in the back of her mind, and she could still remember how they would steal her will. Make her press a blade to her own throat, and try to push herself to take her own life. Every time she managed to fight back, it only made more amusement for Azog. Rage like liquid lightning ran down her spine, and she threw her entire body into each attack. 

The draugr made a sharp hissing noise, before it spoke words in a dark, black language that chilled her to the deepest depths of her soul. She pulled back as the draugr brought the axe down, and she brought her dagger down on it’s arm severing it from it bodies. Arm and axe fell to the ground uselessly. 

A dark satisfaction welled up in her chest as she shoved her entire body at the draugr, intent on destroying it before it could even try to take her will. The stench of death was so pungent that she couldn’t help, but to recoil. However, that did not stop her from plunging the dagger over and over again into the draugr’s bony chest. A flash of blue light clashed with the glow of green, and there was a sharp noise that crackled through the air. Then suddenly the draugr crumbled down into pile of bones, and Elizabeth stumbled back at the backlash of dark magic that dissipated into the air. She twisted around and saw Thorin slash through the draugr as if he had been fighting them his entire life. 

Beads of sweat rolled down his face as he felt the draugr taunt him with hollow promises, like fingers dancing around his mind until they found what could truly tempt him with. But these foul creatures had nothing that could tempt him. Only the halls of his home could move him, and these beings could not promise him that nor would he take any damned promise they made. He would not fall. He could not. He had to hold on or be lost in the dark abyss that edged in around his vision. With a violent roar, he sliced the draugr’s head clean off of its body and he watched it drop the ground in a flash of blue with a snarl upon his lips. He stared down at the creature with more than a little disgust on his face, and slowly he raised his gaze to met Elizabeth’s. 

There was this strange sense of urgency in her blood, a feeling so complex that she could not truly unravel it. Before she had even the time to unravel it, fear cut through her so sharp and sudden that a choked screams tore through her lips. The last draugr had chosen not the fight them, instead it had made its way over to the altar and had it’s blade raised straight over Fili’s neck. 

A scream welled up in throat, and she saw a flash of panic cross across Thorin’s face. “FILI!” Thorin gave an agonizing roar as he charged forward in vain. Elizabeth had ran forward, her eyes watched as the blade came within in an inch of Fili’s neck. A shower of light so bright that engulfed the entire room, and Elizabeth threw her arm up in an attempt to shield from the strange blast of light. Her eyes were narrowed into slim slits, and though as much as she tried she could not see beyond it. A hush fell of the entire cairn, and it was as if a suddenly weight lifted then the light began to fade away. 

Elizabeth stood there still in awe, and then slowly Gandalf came into focus where he stood in the doorway, his staff raised and the tip of it still glowed. Lying on the ground and in pieces was the last draugr. “Gandalf,” Thorin huffed out, more than a little exasperation in his voice as his slate blue eyes pinned the wizard with a glare. 

Elizabeth shook her head, attempting to shove away her shock and she looked at Fili and Bofur. “Are they…are they alright?” She asked, her legs shaking beneath her still overwhelmed by the burst of magic. 

“Fili…” Thorin breathed out, and rushed to his nephew’s side. He clasped both his hands on either side of Fili’s face, and shook urgently. “Fili, speak to me,” he ordered, but his voice was raw with emotion. 

“Are…are they alright?” Elizabeth repeated, as she stumbled to his side. 

“They will be fine,” Gandalf assured the two of them as he marched into the room and eyed all the shadows suspiciously. “I do believe I owe Tom Bombadil a special thanks for teaching me the workings of that spell. It has saved us a great deal of hassle.” 

“Who?” Elizabeth frowned. 

“Tom Bombadil, a merry little fellow! Though it does not surprise me that you know not of him, yet he knows all about you,” Gandalf stated, and Elizabeth’s eyes widened in alarm. “Ah, there is no need to fear, m’dear. Tom is the oldest and the fatherless and one of the beings that protects the valley though that is a tale for another time. We need to wake up these dwarves.” Gandalf waved a hand over the head of each dwarf, his grey eyes narrowed thoughtfully. 

“Well,” Thorin said, impatiently. “Why haven’t they woken? What is wrong with them?” 

“The jewels.” Gandalf suddenly said. “It helps to power the draugr’s spell and keeps the victim in a state of helplessness. We must remove it. _Don’t!”_ Gandalf snapped, when Thorin reached for the jewelry. “Do not touch it with you bare hands, or you will be helpless as they are.” 

Thorin gave a Gandalf a grudging look, before he wrapped the edges of his cloak around his hands and began to peel the jewelry off of Fili as Elizabeth did the same to Bofur. “The draugr,” Elizabeth said, her brows furrowed. “Are there more? Will we have to expect a fight trying to get out of here?” 

“No. They have fled the cairn for the time being though there is little doubt in my mind that they will return. They always do,” Gandalf stated, with a deep frown. “Though it is most troubling why they have stirred so much. This type of activity is quite unusually, for the to awaken in such a number.” 

Elizabeth carefully pulled the last necklace off of Bofur with her cloak and turned towards the wizard. “What are your suspicions?” She asked. Thorin’s eyes looked between the two of them before he finished removing the rest of the cursed jewel from his nephew. 

“I have many suspicions,” Gandalf stated. “Not all of them are meant to be shared at this present point in time.” 

Elizabeth almost said something, but Bofur beat her to it. The dwarf gave a great yawn and stretched his arms up above his head. “What…what is going on?” Bofur shook his head side to side slowly, his brown eyes dazed. He sat halfway up and blinked at his surrounding. “Why did we make camp in tomb?” 

“We didn’t,” Elizabeth choked on a laugh. It was a light sound full of relief, and it drew Thorin’s eyes to her. Thorin did not know why he often found himself studying her. Perhaps it was because she was so full of contradictions. So bright and carefree one moment, then the next she could be haughty or distant. She made no sense at all. 

“Then…then what are we doing here?” Fili groaned, running a tired hand over his face. His blue eyes peeled open and he stared up at his uncle in confusion. Thorin shoulders slumped with relief that he could not hide, and he grasped Fili’s hand and helped his nephew up off of the altar. “What happened? I remember…the forest then there was this glow…a green glow, and that is all I can recall,” Fili stated, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Do not dwell on it as of now,” Thorin told him. “You are safe.” 

“We all are,” Elizabeth steadied Bofur as he jumped off the table and staggered ever so slightly. “We should hurry back to the others. To make sure that they too are safe.” 

“Well, that’s a relief,” Fili came a lopsided grin, and shook his head ever so slightly. The shake made pieces of hair fall away from his beard and now that he wasn’t lying down, it became clear that while the sword that would have taken Fili’s head had been blasted away by the light, it still had still down some damage. 

“Oooh,” Elizabeth made the strange noise before she clap a hand over her mouth. If Thorin has such a violent reaction to her touching his beard, what kind of reaction would Fili have to this? Her blue eyes were wide, and they flickered over at Thorin as if to say, _Do you see what I see?_ Thorin did not acknowledge the look, instead he kept his face carefully blank. 

Fili’s grin slowly melted into an uncertain expression. “What? What is it?” The blond haired dwarf looked at them, but neither of them answered. He looked over at Bofur who was carefully not looking at him, then lastly he fell on the wizard. 

Gandalf winced, and slowly reached up to touch his own beard. Fili’s eyes widened comically and he reached up to touch his beard. His screams echoed through the entirety of the Barrow Downs, but thankfully it did not raise the dead. 

* * *

_“My beard…my beautiful beard…”_

Elizabeth winced in sympathy and glanced back over her shoulder at the blond dwarf that was stroking his beard with a mournful expression on his face. “Oh, Fili, it’s not that bad,” she tried to reassure the poor dwarf. “Barely noticeable at all.” 

“Truly?” Fili looked at her with hopeful eyes. 

Elizabeth hesitated, and saw Thorin shoot her a hard look. “Uh…well…” she fumbled for her words awkwardly. Her eyes darted to the uneven sharp of Fili’s beard. The blade sliced an inch off the bottom of his beard, at a diagonally angle. Truthfully, there was little hair lost, but Fili was still devastated over it nonetheless. “It’s just a little uneven. You just need to make it…level again.” 

“Level?” Fili blinked. 

“Just trim the hair—” Elizabeth began. Fili gasped, and looked at her as if she were Morgoth himself standing before him. Then the blond dwarf carefully made his way around her while Bofur shook his head with a soundless laugh. 

“I take it that wasn’t so helpful,” Elizabeth looked bemused. 

“Indeed not,” the corners of Thorin’s mouth tilted upward in small smirk though the stern expression of his face did not falter. For a moment, Elizabeth swore she saw something beneath his cold exterior. She looked away before she got caught staring, and the two strode in silence as they fell to the back of the group lead by Gandalf whose staff glowed like a beacon warding off the shadows. 

“It was reckless,” Thorin finally spoke. He brought her to a halt when his hand clasped hers, and Elizabeth felt a jolt of awareness rush through her as her heart skipped a beat in her chest. His blue eyes were hard, and unyielding as he stared at her. “Going off alone like that. Why did you? Why risk yourself like this?” He asked, his voice low and husky. 

With wide eyes, she looked up at him. His slate blue eyes seemed to be able to see right through her, a fact she wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Though there were only mere inches between them, Elizabeth felt small as if he towered over her. “Sometimes things are worth the risk,” she admitted, softly. She slowly slid her fingers out of his, and flashed him a quick, uncertain smile before she backed away from him. After they wanted through an on cropping of trees, they finally saw the camp’s fire blazing in the distance. 

“Fili! Fili!” Kili shouted, and he ran full speed at his brother. The pair nearly tumbled to the ground when Kili threw himself at his brother, pulling the blond into a great hug. Luckily, Thorin caught the two by their shoulders to steady them before they fell over, and Elizabeth knew it was not a figment of her imagination when Thorin looked down at them with a soft look that only an uncle or father could give. Bifur and Bombur treated Bofur much the same way, and Elizabeth had little doubt that Fili or Bofur would not be let out of sight by their family for the next few days. The fact that they had nearly lost two of the company so close to beginning of this journey left her more than a little concern. 

“What happened?” Dwalin asked the question that was upon everyone’s mind. He tossed a begrudging glare at the Grey wizard. “The wizard was purposefully vague.” 

Gandalf just puffed on his pipe, without a care. 

Thorin let out a heavy sigh. “We were set upon by the draugr,” Thorin explained, and gasp went through the camp. Dori immediately pulled Ori into his side while the others looked upon their leader with wide eyes. “They festered in the shadows of a cairn nearby, but they have been dealt with help from the wizard…” Thorin’s eyes briefly flickered towards Elizabeth. “Myself, and Miss Morgan. They are gone, and they can no longer bring us harm. Let them bother us no more. Let us be grateful that tonight we were spared the tragedy of loss, and as a Company still whole.” His hands rests upon his nephews shoulders as both of them flanked his sides. “In the morning, we shall press onward so that we leave this cursed place behind us, and take care that we do not lose sight of the Lonely Mountain ahead.” 

Elizabeth saw none of the dwarves loyalty to their leader waver in the slightest, not for one second. If anything it appeared that it had grown. _The rumors are true then,_ she thought with a wryly trace of amusement. _Dwarves are made of sterner stuff than the rest of us._ Elizabeth settled onto a log, and soaked up the warmth of the fire. The chill brought upon her by the draugr had not fully dissipated and she had a feeling it would be days before she felt warm again. 

“Good to see you in one piece, lassie,” Balin greeted her. “You know they say when a woman who has much to say says nothing…her silence can be deafening.” 

Elizabeth spared him a quick glance. “I ponder a great number of things. So many that I fear that my mind has stolen all my words in effort to keep up with all my thoughts,” she whispered out on a sigh. 

“Then perhaps you should unburden yourself onto a pair of willing ears,” Balin commented, patiently. 

She twisted and faced him straight on. For several seconds she did not speak. There were many thoughts that ran through her mind. Despite the relief that she felt, they had come very close to having their journey prematurely ended. It left with a heavy feeling in her chest, however she did not feel that she know Balin so well to unburden those thoughts upon him. Instead, she chose the less important matter. “Why did you send Nori after me?” She had to ask. 

“It was not because we doubted your capabilities, if that is your concern. You have to understand something, lass,” Balin shifted to get more comfortable as his hand searched through his robes from his pipe. After the night’s events, a nice smoke would do his nerves some good. “Women are rare in the dwarven race, and treasured above all else.” 

“But,” Elizabeth’s brows furrowed, “I’m not a dwarf.” 

“But you are a part of this company. You were willing to risk yourself for us. We are willing to risk ourselves for you,” Balin stated, as if though that should be very obvious. 

Elizabeth stared at him for a long moment, and founded herself once again amazed by dwarves. A slow smile spread across her face, and she inclined her lightly. “You words are kind, Master Balin,” she stated, softly. “And most appreciated. Now if you’ll excuse me…I think I have hobbit I have to talk to.” 

“Indeed. He has been most worried,” Balin nodded. 

She rose and slipped past Bofur who carefully knocked heads with Bifur while Bombur held onto his arm worriedly, and towards Bilbo who sat on the roots of a dying willow tree. She came to a stop beside of him, and hesitated to sit down. Finally, she plopped onto the grass with a sigh. “Bilbo, look I—” 

“What are you thinking?” Bilbo asked, heatedly. 

Elizabeth felt a breathy laugh escape her lips then she sighed, heavily. “I’m not laughing,” she explained, when she caught the look Bilbo sent her. “It’s just that you are the second person to ask me that.” 

“People don’t ask you about your thoughts often?” Bilbo asked, archly. 

“Perhaps I’ve just never been around people long enough for them to care to ask,” Elizabeth countered, lightly. Her eyes were filled with a type of sorrow that could not be describe with words, and she twisted blades of grass between her fingers idly. “But my thoughts are not what concern me in this moment. It’s yours that trouble me so.” 

Bilbo looked at her. “I feel…discombobulated. Like that feeling when rolling down a hill, and the world is spinning around too fast to stop. I feel like we are going a bit too fast, and are still somehow stuck at the worst place of the story.” 

“The worst place? No, Bilbo, I hate to tell you that this is hardly the worst place. This is just past the beginning, but far from the middle,” Elizabeth told him, honestly. “I wish I could ease your worries, or tell you that everything was going to be alright. I wish I could tell you that we were still at the point in the story where you could say: ‘Shut the book now, dad; we don’t want to read anymore.’ But we aren’t.” 

“It is not fear for myself that has me worried,” Bilbo shook his head. “Though I cannot say that I have no fears. I have many, but no, that was not what had me frightened so. It was my fright for you.” 

“For me?” Elizabeth looked faintly surprised. 

“Do you ever stop to think of yourself? To ever protect yourself?” Bilbo asked, his lips turned downward in frown. “You don’t, do you?” 

“If you think that my own existence is of no consequence to me, than you are wrong, Bilbo,” Elizabeth denied, lightly. “I do have self-preservation though I’m sure many would contest to its existence. When things are in danger, sacrifices often must be made. Some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them.” 

“But what if one day that sacrifice is your life?” Bilbo asked. 

“Then it is my life,” Elizabeth stated, simply. “Dying for something is better than dying for nothing.” 

Bilbo cocked his head to the side. “I suppose it is,” he said, and the matter between them was settled. “Were they truly frightening as the stories depicted them to be? The draugr?” Fear could not quell his curiosity, and nothing piqued his curiosity like a good story, if there was one to be told. 

“Oh, the story do not do them justice,” Elizabeth said, with a smile curling the edge’s of her lips. “Do you want to know?” 

Bilbo gave her a flat look. “Do Brandybucks like to dance?” 

Elizabeth laughed, and the weight that had been resting on her shoulders slowly slipped away as she began to describe the draugrs in great detail. All the while Thorin’s eyes kept drifting over towards her, as if she were some great puzzle in need of solving. And quickly. 

* * *

When morning came, the relief could not be contained. The wariness that weighed down upon everyone’s shoulders had been lifted and the set out as soon as the dawn broke the horizon. No one gave protest for none of them wanted to linger. “Onward,” Thorin ordered, his voice strange light and his face lacked the harshness of the previous days for he could not muster the energy to put upon his cold façade. “We make for Bree.” 

* * *

The doors to the Prancing Pony swung wide open, and without preamble, a man clothed in dark brown clothing step through. The smell of stale ale and pipeweed perfume the air as the rowdy crowd was loud with drunken merriment. The man looked them all over with his grey and piercing eyes that glinted from underneath the shadow of his hood, before he stepped towards the bar with purpose in his strides. 

“How can I be of service to ye, sir?” The bartender asked. 

“I am searching for someone,” the man stated, carefully. 

“A lot of someones be passing through here,” the bartender shrugged. “I can’t remember all the names, and faces.” 

The man smirked ever so slightly. “Believe me. You would remember this face. I’m looking for a young woman, she would be wearing armor and weapons. Her eyes are of the most unnatural sort.” 

“Hmmm…” the bartender’s brows furrowed. “Don’t suppose you would give me a name?” 

“The name is Elizabeth Morgan.” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some bits of this was inspired from Skyrim. It is a good game, and even non game lovers would love the attention to detail put into the game, and how vast the storylines can be.
> 
>  
> 
> GeekFacts: Tom Bombadil, the Oldest and Fatherless, was as old as the elves themselves. Perhaps even older. Though it was never made clear as to what he was (everything from him being the spirit of the valley to being a maia to being Eru himself), he did save Frodo and the other hobbits from the Barrow-Wrights in the Fellowship of the Ring. He is quoted to be a “Quite a merry fellow. Bright blue his jacket is, and boots are yellow!”
> 
>  
> 
> ANSWER TO CHALLENGE: The Barrow-Wrights (a creation that Tolkien based off the Draugr myth) haunted the Barrow Downs, and Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin encountered them on the way to Bree in the Fellowship of the Ring. The Barrow-Wrights were servants of the Witch King and Nazgul. Which is why Lalaithiel, who guessed right, will get to name an OC (who is a female hobbit) that will be encountered in Bree. 
> 
>  
> 
> Music helps me write. If I have a block or can’t figure out how to word something, I’ll find a piece of music and close my eyes and listen to it. So I’ve collected some songs, and decided to make a “Made of Stone OST”. 
> 
>  
> 
> The Soundtrack is incomplete, I will add more songs, but I thought it would be fun to show you some of the songs that helped inspire this story. I have to give props to Shasaria because she helped me discover a few of these gems! Thanks, Shasaria. :D
> 
> 1.) "Shadow of Doubt" (Elizabeth's Theme) from Escaflowne Soundtrack
> 
>  
> 
> 2.) "Lullaby for a Stormy Night" (Elrond's Lullaby for Elizabeth) by Vienna Teng
> 
>  
> 
> 3.) "Florence" (The Shire Theme) from Assassin's Creed 2 Soundtrack
> 
>  
> 
> 4.) "Babel" (Bilbo Baggins's Theme) by Mumford and Sons
> 
>  
> 
> 5.) "Reign of the Dark" (Barrow Down Theme) by Adrian Von Ziegler
> 
>  
> 
> 6.) "Druidic Dreams" (Bree Theme) by Adrian Von Ziegler
> 
>  
> 
> 7.) "Night Mist" (Fell Winter Theme) by Adrian Von Ziegler
> 
>  
> 
> 8.) Morning Dew (Rivendell Theme) by Adrian Von Ziegler
> 
>  
> 
> 9.) "Battle Scars" by Guy Sebastian ft. Lupe Fiasco
> 
>  
> 
> 10.) "Sakurasou" (Thorin and Elizabeth's Theme 1) by Gackt
> 
>  
> 
> 11.) "Don't You Worry Child" by Swedish House Mafia
> 
>  
> 
> 12.) "How Can I Not Love You" (Thorin and Elizabeth's Theme 2) by Joy Enriquez 
> 
>  
> 
> 13.) 
> 
>  
> 
> 14.) "In the Light" by Full Blown Rose
> 
>  
> 
> 15.) "The Way You Look At Me" (Thorin and Elizabeth's Theme 3) by Christian Bautista
> 
>  
> 
> If you all have a suggestion you want to make, tell me. I’ll listen to it and see if it fits in my vision of the story. If so, it might make it on the soundtrack. If not, it might inspire a chapter. Either way, it will help. Thank you all! :D


	11. A Matter of Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT! GLAD YOU ALL LIKE THE FIC! :D This chapter was inspired by the song 'Tainted Heart' and 'Let Me Fade' by Adrian Von Ziegler. It's a sorrowful, dark instrumental piece that shows the inner conflict that Thorin will go through. Go check him out on you tube, his music is worth and I have even subscribed to his page because he is so fantastically talented. :D
> 
> I want to greasergirlalex, Starkid_Impala015, Just4Me, mehg11, EbonyLeijon, edelweissmaia, DanteOphydian, RegalMagnus, fairykia, Elashor_Seger, Dances_With_Vulcans, candy_hearts, i11iad, AgentLilyAEvans, and hwinde as well as 32 guests who left kudos on this work! Thank you all so much.
> 
> Thank you Lalaithiel for commenting, and choosing a new hobbit name for Eleanor! :D

CHAPTER ELEVEN

'A Matter of Trust'  
2851  
Don Guldur

Her heart pounded in her chest. A steady and constant rhythm that was the only surety that she was actual alive. Even the pain felt like a figment of her imagination now, and that she merely existed with it. It was hard pressed to remember days that weren't like this. Just the briefest glimmer of a smile, or of running through the forest with the wind rushed past. That sense of freedom yet the security of home that she could go to every night after her adventures. Her finger tips stretched out, soaking up every last inch of sun that she could through that crack in the wall. It was only large enough to slip her arm through, and she did so. It was the briefest moments that she could feel the wind and fresh air from the outside. Or feel the brief warmth of the sun. 

Her cheek was pressed against the grimy, dirty wall. Her eyes looked up at the dark skyline. The sun came through a break in gloomy clouds overhead. The nearby trees were dead…everything looked dead. The muscles in her arms cramped, and ached. Her finger tips were going numb, and her arm collapsed when she could no longer keep it up anymore. It dangled there, and the breeze was so gentle. She drew in a breath, a tear rolling down her cheek. She started to draw her arms through the hole when her finger touched something. 

She jolted, a startled noise slipped through her lips. It was metal, and cold. She stood stock still for a long moment, the other part of her waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the pain to happen, but nothing came. A frown pulled down onto her lips, and slowly she curled her fingers around the piece of metal. She tugged out in, experimentally. It shifted, but did not give right away. Her brows scrunched together and she gave a tiny whine in the back of her throat as she put more force behind the pull. 

It pulled free. A tiny burst of triumphant went through her heart, and she slowly pulled her arm back through the crack to see what she had found. Her hear cocked to the side as she unfolded her hand. It looked like a nail. A large nail. The thickness of it was the span of two of her fingers, and it was easily five inches long. It was bent and wicked looking like a crooked claw on an old crones finger from the stories her mother told her before bedtime. She held it in her hand like one would dagger, and the weight of it for some reason made a shiver run down her spine. Her head shot up as she caught movement out of her eye, and she saw Charlie staring at her through the bars with a suspicious and curious look. "It's a nail," she explained, lamely. 

Charlie just stared. The language thing really sucked, but she did have a new appreciation for her French teacher. Who knew that languages could be so hard? 

Especially when you didn't have a textbook to teach you it. Charlie quickly lost interest over the nail and stumbled to the corner, kneeling down and began to mutter. Elizabeth stared at him a moment longer, then looked away down at the nail once more. His mutterings no longer phased her, and in fact, were sometimes comforting. It reminded her that she isn't alone. 

Footsteps made her heart jump into her throat, and she found herself dropping down onto the cot. Her knees were pulled up to her chest, and her breath was held tight. She didn't know what was worse. The monsters that brought knives and whips or the skeletons that glowed green that stole all her thoughts. Her fingers clenched tightly to the nail and she held it close to her chest. It seemed like forever until the monster shuffled into the view. It was one of the oily skinned creatures with twisted look on his expression, and his lips pulled back to reveal his gnarled, jagged teeth. Elizabeth clenched her eyes closed and hoped that the creature would just go away. 

It didn't. Instead, it twisted the key in the lock and opened her cell door. Then shut the door behind him. Fear trembled through her as hot as an open flame on the stove, and she felt a lump grow in the back of her throat. _No…no more…no more pain,_ Elizabeth shook her head back and forth as panic clawed at her stomach, viciously and without mercy. Hands grabbed at her and she let out a scream as she was hauled out of the bed. "No! No!" She begged and screamed. 

The monster spat at her and hissed in a guttural tongue while shaking her violently. Spittle went flying out of his mouth on her face, and she threw up in the back of her mouth. Her feet brushed the ground, and she struggled to get her footing as the monster began to drag her toward the cell door. Something broken inside, or something clicked together, Elizabeth did not know which. All she knew it was a split second decision. One made out of survival, and Elizabeth swung the nail upward with all her might straight into the monsters throat. The monster gurgled, and eyes bulged in pure shock. Black blood pooled down her fingers, and she gagged violently. She ripped the nail free from the flesh, and swung it forward once more. This time she buried it straight into the monsters skull, with a loud crunch. The monster dropped to floor with a sickening thud. Elizabeth stumbled backward, a gasp ripped before her stomach twisted violently and the taste of vomit exploded in her mouth. She crumbled to all fours and puked all over the ground. Her nostrils burned, and tears leaked down out of the corners of her eyes as she choked on sobs. Her fingers dug into the ground, the rocks scraped at her fingers roughly. 

Black dots floated around her vision, and her lungs burned from lack of air. She was going to pass out, she was certain of it. That was until she saw the keys glinting on the ground. Her heart stopped for a moment. Everything seemed to halt in that moment as she stared, in entire disbelief. 

_"What is the first rule if you get lost and are alone?" Her father had sat her down, and Elizabeth looked up at him, half distracted by a butterfly. He caught her hands when she tried to catch the butterfly. "Elizabeth," he said, sternly, "what is the first rule if you get lost and are alone?"_

_Elizabeth pouted. "Do whatever it takes to survive," she mimicked his words and his expression._

_"Yes," Charlie nodded. "Do whatever it takes to survive."_

Elizabeth reached out, and picked them up. The weight of them like a lifeline, and she felt a strange, detached calm roll over her. She held them in her hand for a long moment before she looked up at the cell door and it all came together in her mind. Her eyes narrowed on the dagger and sword at the monsters waist and she slowly stood up. 

"Do whatever it takes to survive," she nodded to herself, and for a moment she felt a spark of life inside her chest. She had to get home, no matter what the cost. 

_Weapon._ The thought was mechanical, and she reached around the monster. Her fingers pulled the small blade from the monsters waist and she stared down at it with a fascination. Each breath hurt like glass through her chest and her heart stuttered in her chest. _Knives are not play things, Elizabeth,_ her mother's voice echoed in her mind. Her brows furrowed delicately, and her mouth slightly agape. _But this isn't a knife…it's a dagger,_ Elizabeth thought, dazed. Her hand was shaky, and she couldn't get it to stop. A churning rolled in her stomach as she stumbled to her feet, and she slowly made her way to the cell door. 

Her finger fumbled with the key for several moments, before she got it into the keyhole and twisted it. The click almost brought tears to her eyes, and the door swinging upon did. Her first instinct was to rush out the door and head for the corridor when she came to an abrupt halt. She stood there for a long moment, her posture awkward and hesitant before she turned around. Her wide eyes stared back at the cell that held Charlie, and she made another split second decision. She rushed over to the cell door, unlocking it, and threw it open. Charlie jerked straight up from the corner that he had been huddled in and looked at her with wide eyes. 

For a moment, Charlie just stared at her uncomprehendingly then his gaze flickered towards the open door then down at the dagger in her shaking hand. With a large hand he reached out and took the dagger, easing her from the burden her of carrying it. Her eyes stared at him for a long moment, too solemn a look for a child in them. "Let's go, Charlie," Elizabeth said, hoarsely. "Let's go home." 

* * *

2941  
The Roadway to Bree

Elizabeth's eyes were lackluster when they set off that morning. None had been able to rest the night before, too afraid and too wary for sleep. Her brows were drawn together and her face pale, paler than normal. Anxiety crept along her skin because even though the battle was done, it never fully left. Not really. Her nostrils flared as she drew in a deep breath, and she settled for focusing on the road way. Last night had brought up a lot of old memories, the ones that she had neatly put away into the back of her mind and tried not let see the light of day ever again. It worked for a while, but not completely. She couldn't forget completely. 

They had trudged forward as the first signs of light peered over the horizon, more than one of them glad to see the sunrise. Elizabeth ran her hand across Aracala's neck, soothingly as she rode beside Gandalf in silence. Thorin lead them along a path that cut across several fields. The leaves of trees glistened in the morning light, and everything was covered from the dripping twigs, to the grass that was grey with cold dew. A cool mist rolled across the field, and along the horses hooves. After riding for about an hour, slowly and without talking, Elizabeth finally ventured to break the silence. "Bilbo has been quiet," she stated, and shot a sideways glance over at the wizard. "It has me worried." 

Gandalf arched a brow. "You have been quiet, as well," the wizard noted. Elizabeth twisted to look at him straight on. "I have been lost in my thoughts," she stated, a tad defensively. 

"Perhaps Bilbo is lost in his," the wizard stated, simply. Elizabeth's lips pursed, and gave him a flat look to which the wizard sighed. "Bilbo is merely homesick, and there is little wonder why. He has yet to find his footing in a world that is completely unknown to him," Gandalf stated, puffs of smoke drifted out of the corners of his mouth. "Though he has signed his name to bottom of that contract, and came along, he has not truly accepted the fact that he is on a quest." 

"Of course not. He is a hobbit," Elizabeth stated, as though that should be truly obvious. "His heart still lies with the Shire. A piece of it always will pine for those woods, and fields and little rivers. Yavanna has blessed the lands that her hobbits have chosen, and it is a part of him, as it is a part of all hobbits. However, one piece does not make a whole." She sent Gandalf a searching look before she dared continued, "At first, I was wary of you asking Bilbo to come alone." 

"Why?" The wizard actually blinked and looked stupefied. "You have asked him to come on journeys before." 

"But he never accepted," her lips quirked upward. "In all honest, I never expected him to. I never gave him a reason to want to leave his home. Not like these dwarves did." Her expression softened ever so slightly. "He had not yet hit his stride on this quest, but I see a lightness to him that I have not seen since his mother's passing. I want to apologize for doubting your wisdom." 

"Now, now," Gandalf huffed, slightly. "It isn't the first time you have doubted me, and it will not be last though I appreciate the apology nonetheless." 

Elizabeth cracked a smile at him, and her eyes dimmed with a very serious thought. "I do believe I have never thank you," she murmured, a bit of astonishment in her voice. 

"For what?" Gandalf asked, his pipe paused an inch from his mouth as he blinked owlishly at her. It was a rarity that he was ever stumped, or puzzled by something. He could not recall a reason to be thanked by her in this instance. Perhaps the incident at the Barrow Downs, but that thanks went without mention. 

"For all that you've done for me," Elizabeth replied, without pause. "You've gotten me out of many mishaps. More than a few of my own making, and I do not believe I have ever expressed gratitude for it." 

"M'dear girl, why would I ever needs thanks for that?" Gandalf chided her, lightly. "I do not do things for the sake of thanks, or gratitude. I do it because it is the right thing to do, and because you are more important than you know to quite a number of people. Myself included." 

Elizabeth felt the smile before it spread across her face. "I never knew I was held in such high esteem," she said, quietly. 

"Oi!" Bofur suddenly shouted. "How much farther 'til we turn up in Bree?" 

Thorin heaved a long sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We will have reached Bree by sundown," he stated, gathering ever ounce of patience he had for the lack of sleep and the previous night's events had left him more sullen than usual. The thought that had been so unprepared for the attack, and practically helpless against it left a bitter taste in his mouth. To have to put his trust so quickly in a woman who was probably little more than a child by the age of man was not something he had ever consider, nor had he though he would have wielded a blade of elvish make. However, the most disquiet thought of all was the image of the blade hanging poised above Fili's neck was not one that would be soon forgotten, if it ever was. His sister's voice echoed hauntingly in his ears, _"You bring them back! You hear me, Thorin? You bring my boys back!"_

And he had promised he would. 

He had always known there was a chance that he would not be able to keep that promise, but to have it thrust into his face in such a way was not something he imagined. He let out a deep breath, and focused a scowl onto the road before them. Dwalin and Balin had wisely kept their silence for now, and it was something Thorin was grateful for. 

* * *

The watcher's eyes were drawn to them as soon as they entered. The doors swinging with a loud bang, which no one blinked an eye at for the Prancing Pony was already loud and vivacious. However, the sight of a large group of dwarves, along with a lost looking hobbit, drew more than a few pair of eyes. Suspicion. Speculation. He could feel it curl upon everyone's tongue, and he could see more than a few men straight in their seats. For a moment, he feared he would have to stop something. There was a stigma, a mostly unfair one, when it came to dwarves. Tales about their greed, or brutality were far spread. The tales about dwarves that disappeared, or were beaten, or cheated, or worse however were hushed. Silenced. 

He could almost guarantee that some seedy villager would try to take advantage of the dwarves arrival. That was until an unmistakable wizard in a grey hat came strode in along side of him, his grey eyes swept around the room and immediately onlookers turned their gazes elsewhere. The watcher's eyebrows shot upward in faint surprise, though the wizard was a known meddler so it wasn't all that surprising. It was the last figure that came in after the large group, that slipped through the door like a ghost. 

[](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/tumblr_inline_n90p91qTiM1sy66lj_zpsmi0b6u8j.gif.html)

The familiar cloak, and armor made him to do a double take. His lips parted in surprise, and then the right side of his lips quirked upward in a half smile. _So this is where you wander off to,_ he inhaled on his pipe, with a thoughtful little frown. He had hoped that she would turn up, but in the company of dwarves? It was very peculiar. 

He watched as the group stay close to together as an imposing dwarf marched forward towards the inn keeper to bargain for rooms. He had the bearings of a warrior, his shoulders straight and ever alert. 

"Hmm," he blew out the smoke, and decided he definitely to keep an eye on this interesting development. After all, family took care of family and that is what he intended to do. 

* * *

The Prancing Pony was dimly lit from a blazing log fire and a few candles on tables. The place is packed, full of men and woman, human and hobbits alike. Elizabeth wished they could have went as inconspicuous, but it was a hope made in vain. Dwarves in Bree was highly uncommon, and the amount was bound to draw suspicion. Her unnatural eyes flickered around the room as the hairs on the back of her neck rose warily. Her lips pursed as she fingered the sword at her waist thoughtfully. Bree was not a bad villages as villages went, but for the people that passed through the same could not be said. 

Thorin approached the counter with a coin purse in hand. "We are passing through, and are in much need of rest. Are any beds available?" Thorin asked, a bit stiffly. He had not liked the Prancing Pony the last time he was here, and he had not rested there. He would not rest now if it were not for the fact that the company was beyond exhausted and practically dead on their feet. To push them onward in this condition would be folly. 

"We do not accept dwarvish gold here," the bartender said, with an ill hidden contempt etched upon his face. "You will have to go elsewhere." 

Thorin's expression darkened, like a storm just before the thunder and lightning came down. His blue eyes darkened as he glowered at Thornberry, his lips pursed in an effort not to sneer. "The gold is worth its weight," Thorin countered, his voice rumbled. "All we is shelter for the night, we will be gone by the break of day. You have my word." 

Elizabeth watched the whole exchange with more than a little disbelief, her heart dropped in her stomach as a sense of disgust rushed through her. She could sense trouble brewing, as the mutterings around them grew louder and she saw more than a few eye them. With a sigh, Elizabeth stepped forward, after taking a glance at the weak and weary faces of the company. "Master Thornberry," she greeted the bartender, politely as she stood beside Thorin's side. She held her head high, and kept her expression carefully benevolent. Thorin's blue eyes narrowed as he spared her a sharp sideways glance. 

"Lady Thane," Thornberry blinked, surprised. "I had thought you already parted from these lands for greener pastures." 

Elizabeth's pulled into a smile, but it was neither kind nor gentle. "If such a place truly exists," she inclined her head, ever so slightly. "Now, may I ask what seems to be the problem here? I assured my companions that they would find warm meal and rest here at the Prancing Pony, would you have me branded as someone who's word is hollow?" 

Thornberry looked taken aback. "Of course not, milady," he said, rather flustered. "It is just that…we've been cheated before and…" 

"Caution is always admirable," Elizabeth allowed, though there was something in her voice that was stiff. "However, I assure you whatever dwarves you've encountered in the past are the minority. These dwarves that stand behind me are honorable, and would try no such thing. You can trust them, and their gold. On this you have my word." 

Thornberry hesitated then nodded. "Very well," he nodded. "We have only one room. The large one with several cots, but I fear that is the only one we have…" 

Elizabeth looked at Thorin, eyebrow arched. He gave her a quick narrowed eyed glance before he nodded. "Very well," he inclined his head, after he took a deep breath through his nose. 

"But where will the lady stay?" Thornberry appeared, baffled. 

"She is with us," Gandalf stated, quickly. 

"B-but it…it is not seemly," Thornberry cautioned. 

"If I had come to care for seemly things, dear Thornberry, I would not be where I am today and as for that, well, I can not think of a place I would rather be than with this company," Elizabeth stated, firmly. Her expression was genially, never once allowing the frustration she felt to show through. "We will take the room, and we thank you for your hospitality." 

Thornberry looked like he wanted to pitch a mighty protest, but grumbled with a nod while now accepting the payment from Thorin. "I will have Ivy show you the way after you've had your supper," Thornberry stated, and moved away. 

Thorin glared at him for a moment longer before he gestured for the company to make themselves comfortable. They settled around to large tables in the corner of the inn in an attempt to avoid further attention. As he settled down into a seat, Dwalin took the one beside him. 

"We should have not stopped in a man's village," Dwalin swept a narrowed eyed gaze across the tavern, his hand clenched and unclenched as if he thought about reaching for his axe. He did not like this inn, nor was he inclined to be trusting any men around here. 

"We could not afford to press on," Thorin told him, in a hushed voice as he watched a drunken man stumble past them. "The road has left us most weary." 

"Aye," Dwalin conceded, with a nod. "And our journey hath only begun." 

As the Company settled a hobbit lass came waddling over with a tray carrying many bowls that she somehow managed to keep balanced. She began to set them in front of the company careful not to spill any. "I am Ivy," the hobbit lass said, smiling prettily. She had golden curls that hung around a soft oval face and a pair of sapphire blue eyes that sparkled with mischief. "Ivy Goldchild, and I will be your server tonight. If there anything you all be needing besides supper just let me-" She abruptly cut off when her eyes fell upon Bilbo, and her smile dropped to something akin to shock. "Bilbo Baggins?!" 

Bilbo flushed before he cleared his throat, and tugged at his collar awkwardly. "H-Hello, Ivy," he stated, his voice a bit weak. He had never expected to see her here, and his heart jolted in his chest at the sight of him. "How are you?" 

Ivy's mouth worked up and down before she pursed them into a thin line. "Well enough," she said, letting the bowl of soup fall in front of him with a thud. A couple of drops splattered upon the table's surface. "Yourself?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. 

"Fine," Bilbo stated, fiddling with the buttons of his jacket. 

"Now, there's no need to be nervous," Ivy teased. 

"I'm not nervous," Biblo denied, a tad offended. 

"You're fiddling with your buttons. That has always been your giveaway, you silly Baggins," Ivy chuckled, then she looked at Elizabeth. "Finally got him to run away?" 

"Something like that," Elizabeth allowed, and shared a smile with Gandalf who also seemed amused by the turn of events. "Ivy Goldchild," she said the name, and looked at the female hobbit thoughtfully. "That name sounds familiar. You haven't always been a Bree hobbit, have you?" 

"I lived in the Shire once upon a time," Ivy shrugged, lightly. "Left a few years after the Fell Winter," as she said that Bilbo carefully avoided her gaze. "Ah, well, look at me rattling on. I'll leave you to your suppers, and bid you a enjoyable stay." 

As the hobbit lass walked away Elizabeth tapped her fingertips together, raking her brain for the name Ivy Goldchild because for some reasons she felt that she couldn't recall something important. She let out a snort as Kili and Fili rushed off to the get ale with more than a little eagerness. She let the female hobbit slip from her mind entirely, and turned back to the group. The dwarves were all huddled together protectively and shifted in their seats as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. She knew of the stigma against dwarves, one that she did not understand. All races had their faults, but perhaps since she was not truly from this world she had a better view on it. 

"I feel I should apology," Elizabeth stated, softly. 

Several eyes swept towards her, though Balin is the one to ask what she meant. 

"Whatever for, lass?" Balin blinked at her, puzzled. 

"For Thornberry," Elizabeth said, her eyes looking down at her soup. It was brown, and had a questionable meat that floated around the top. "I had not expected such a reaction like that, and he had no right to treat you all so." 

"Now don't go apologizing," Bofur told her, with his crooked smile. "T'was no fault of yours." 

"Besides, it is nothing we aren't used to, lass," Dwalin answered, roughly. He dunked his bread in his stew and ate it while eyeing a drunken man who passed their table with a narrowed gaze. 

"Aye, it's true," Balin nodded, solemnly. 

Elizabeth looked at them, and felt a sense of injustice for them inside her heart. "You shouldn't have to be," she shook her head, lightly. She leaned back in her chair with a heavy sigh, and crossed her arms over her chest when suddenly she stiffened. She raised halfway off her seat, her eyes narrowed slightly and Dwalin noted that, his hand reached towards his axe. 

"What is the matter, lass?" Dwalin asked, brusquely. 

Elizabeth stayed frozen for a long moment before she sat back down into her seat. "I cannot say," she commented, softly. "For a moment, I thought we were being watched." 

"A lot of people are watching," Ori stated, quietly. 

"Too many," Dori puffed out his chest, and scolded at person that passed by. 

"With passing interest and curiosity in their gazes, yes." Elizabeth frowned, heavily. "This gaze…this gaze was not one of passing fancy, it was one of intent though of what intent I can not say for certain." 

"Nerves?" Bofur suggested. 

Bilbo shook his head. "Elizabeth would not speak up about nerves. Believe me, I know," the hobbit stated, and looked down into his drink when Elizabeth turned to give him a wide eyed look. 

Thorin stared at Elizabeth with hooded gaze, before he gave a slight nod. "Indeed not. While our hackles have been raised over recent events, this is not the imagination brought upon by a sense of unease despite the great discomfort this place brings," Thorin admitted, regally inclining his head in Elizabeth's direction slightly. "A hooded man. He done nothing but stare at us since we've arrived." 

A shot of alarm ran down Elizabeth spine and she gave Thorin a double take. Dwalin had a similar expression of shock, then his lips turned downward in vexation. "And you kept silent?" Dwalin arched a brow. 

"He is gone now," Thorin stated, impassively. 

"Doesn't mean he won't be back with trouble nipping at his heels," Gloin huffed, licking some crumbs of bread of his fingers. 

"We have a wizard on our side," Kili thumped back into his seat with a loud content sigh as he looked down at the cup of ale in his hand. "Only a fool would pick a fight." 

"There are many fools in the race men," Gloin huffed. Then he saw Elizabeth who sat adjacent from him arch her brow. "No offense, lass," the red headed dwarf appeared slightly sheepish. 

"None taken," Elizabeth flashed him a toothy smile. 

Fili came waddling over and plopped himself down at the table, carrying a very large mug of beer. 

"What's that?" Kili's eyes are wide. 

"This, my dear brother," Fili grinned broadly at the cup in front of him, "is a pint." 

"It comes in pints?" Kili's face lit up. "I'm getting one!" 

"You've had a whole half already," Bilbo said, but Kili was already on his feet heading towards the bar while Bofur and Bombor laughed. 

Elizabeth shook her head, an amused little grin on her lips when her eyes fell on a couple of swarthy men leaning against the bar glance at the dwarves then quickly look away when Elizabeth scowled at them. Usually Bree was such a quiet and usually dull stop on her trips, a place she could pause to breath. Now, she could hardly wait until dawn arose and they could make their departure. 

* * *

There room was not exactly spacious, but it had a fair number of beds yet the number was not nearly enough. The ten beds in totally still left them five short. After much squabbling, Thorin ended the debate by having Dori bunk with Ori, Bofur with Bifur, Gloin with Oin and Fili with Kili. Thanks to efforts made on Elizabeth's part, they were able to charm Thornberry into having an extra bed brought into the room. It was quite humdrum compared the previous night, though Elizabeth did not mind. She would take the warmth of a fire, and hot meal over slinking through barrows after evil spirits any given day. 

She carefully laid her bag to the side of the cot before she folded her hands into her lap and glanced at the wizard who had chosen the bed beside her. Elizabeth had plagued by many thoughts since the beginning of this question. Some more important than others, but all needed answers. "Gandalf," Elizabeth said, quietly, "tell me where you plan on taking us?" 

Gandalf looked over at her, his brushy brow arched. "I thought that was obvious," the wizard told her, with a slight chuckle. "To the Lonely Mountain, of course." 

"You know that is not what I meant," she said, a quick narrowed eyed look at him. "I meant what path are you taking us on. I know my way through these lands, I have scoured them before as you well know." 

"That I do." Gandalf inclined his head. He studied her, with a look as if he were having an internal debate. "I intend on taking you to Rivendell," he finally answered, his voice low so his words would not be overheard. Especially by the leader of the company. 

Surprise hit her first, then her heart sank. "But I thought Thorin and the others hated elves," Elizabeth stated, her lips twisted down into a confused frown. "Why would he ever agree to such a…" She trailed off, and looked more carefully at the wizard. It would have been indiscernible to one who did not know him well, but she could make out the underline of tension to his expression. "Ah," she acknowledged, her right eyebrow ticking upward and an amusement sliding across her lips. "So I take it that our esteemed leader knows not what you plan?" 

"Don't be cheeky," Gandalf told her, which only increased her amusement. "No. Thorin does not know, and what he does not know until it is absolutely necessary won't hurt him," the wizard finished, gruffly. "Can I trust you to hold your tongue on this matter?" 

Elizabeth hesitated, for a moment. She was after all a part of the company, bound by her contract and the few friendship she was forging with some of the dwarves. She did not wish to deceive them in such a way. And the thought of going to Rivendell filled her with equal amounts of trepidation, and excitement. Her heart clenched, remembering the last time she had been there and the words she had traded with the man that she had called father. "Yes," she nodded ever so slightly. "I will keep your confidence, Mithrandir. I only hope that doing so is wise." 

"You've never been keen on being wise before," Gandalf told her, with a teasing gleam in his eyes. "Why decide to start to now?" He swept off with a swish of his grey robes towards Bilbo before Elizabeth could properly retort. She stared at the wizard's back with a sour look that promised she would exact some kind of revenge. It would be best to wait until Rivendell, that way she could pin the blame on Elladan and Elorhir. A sigh heaved its way through her, and she turned to get up off the cot so fast that she nearly knock Ori off his feet. "Mister Ori," she blinked in surprise, her head shot out to help steady him. "My apologies, I did not see you." 

"No apologies needed, Miss Elizabeth," Ori offered her, a shy smile. His cheeks were dusted pink in light embarrassment. "I should be the one give you an apology. I dinnae mean to sneak up on you." 

"No apologies needed," she parroted his words back at him, a light smile graces her features. "Now, what brings you all the way over here?" 

"I…uh, that is to say I was wondering miss if I might not have a moment of your time to…uh, draw your portrait? It is my duty to log and write down everything about our journey. If you don't mind," Ori stumbled through the question, and he looked as if he half expected her to reject his request. 

"My portrait?" Elizabeth gawked for a moment before she remembered that it was not polite. "Why would you want to draw my portrait? 

"I am a scribe, miss," Ori ducked his head slightly, a tad sheepish. Elizabeth was not overly surprised by this for Dori appeared to be quite the mother hen when it came to his youngest brother. "It is my duty to keep a record of all that is to happen through our journey, but most of all about our company. You are a part of that miss." 

"Oh, I understand." Elizabeth inclined her head. "A dignified profession." 

"Youngest scribe recorded in the Blue Mountains," Dori looked up from his stitching. He didn't hesitate to boast about his youngest brother for he was quite proud. 

"Then you must be quite accomplished," Elizabeth commented, with a slight smile when Ori looked a bit embarrassed. He reminded her a bit of herself when she was younger. While she had roamed free and was quite bold around her family members, around strangers she had been shy. 

"Thank you," Ori inclined his had lightly. 

Elizabeth rose from her cot, and tilted her head down to look Ori in the eye. "I do not mind your request at all though it is quite dark even with the fire going. Are you sure that you can draw in such light?" She asked, a twinge of concern in her voice. 

"Dwarves eyesight is not often hindered by the dark," Ori told her, his journal clasped tightly between his hands. "In fact, most often than now we can see better in the dark than others, save for the elves perhaps." 

"Oh. I had not known that," Elizabeth said. It made actually a quite a bit of since now that she thought over it and it shouldn't surprise her that she did not know it. Dwarves were a guarded race and shared their secrets with few. "Alright, Master Ori, just tell me where you need me," she smiled at him. Ori asked her to sit in a chair beside the fire place, and she did so without compliant. Ori took a sit beside her and put his charcoal to paper while the other gathered around in circle. Jokes were traded, and stories told. 

Dwalin gave a gruesome rendition of how he lost a chunk of his ear much to Fili and Kili's glee. Nori lost ten pieces of gold to Bofur because he had bet Bilbo would have fainted after that story, but the hobbit had merely turned a unique shade of green. 

"You screamed like a little girl!" Fili crowed. 

"I did not!" Kili defended, his cheeks puffed out with anger as he eyed his brother half tempted to tackle him. 

"Admit it, little brother," Fili snorted with laughter. "You screamed." 

"I was merely startled," Kili defended, with a huff that only made others around him laughter louder. "But I did not sound like a girl." 

"But you did scream," Fili pointed a finger at him. Kili let out a dwarven curse at his brother that caused a uproar of laughter from the rest of the group. "Do you kiss our mother with that mother?" Fili asked, eyebrow arched. 

Kili feinted at his brother, but Thorin grabbed his shoulder more roughly than he should have. "No roughhouse here. The last thing we need is the barkeep to call upon the guards," Thorin stated, his voice gruff as he forced Kili back down on his spot on the floor. Kili looked downtrodden for all of a second, before his expression turned thoughtful. He glanced up at Elizabeth who was being careful to sit still for Ori, and he asked, "Lady Elizabeth…have you fought orcs before?" 

"Yes…I've fought orcs many a time," she replied, a bemused sort of smile on her face. Her blue eyes flickering from the flames towards the young dwarf, careful not to move for Ori was most absorbed in his drawing. "May I as to inquire why you wish to know?" She asked, her fingers fiddling with the edge's of her tunic. 

"We were just wondering how young you were when you fought your first orc," Fili asked, leaning forward to look at her from around Kili. "Kili was fifty-eight when he battled his first orc. I was only sixty-one when I encounter my first battle with one of their wretched kind. How many annuals were you?" 

The smile vanished off her face, and her stomach plummeted. Her eyes widened a fraction as the air whooshed out of her, and against her will repressed memories came forth, and flashed before her eyes. Elizabeth's lips parted in shock as she tried to find her voice that had suddenly fled. 

"Miss Elizabeth?" Kili's voice was quite, laced with a concern. 

Elizabeth jerked, and raised her gaze to see all the dwarves looking at her with a variety of expressions on their faces. Most of them looked curious while she saw a bit of pity in Balin's expression as if he knew, and she resisted the urge to look away as anger began to boil in the pit of her stomach. She did not need pity. Pity was useless and did no one any good. She glanced around the room noting that Gandalf would not meet her eyes, puffing on his pipe. The firelight made him look older enhancing the wrinkles on his face, and she knew why. Gandalf was one of the few who knew of what happened to her. 

The hair of the nape of her neck rose, and she turned her head subtle. Across the room, cascaded in firelight Thorin stood watching her with a hawk like intensity. His piercing blue eyes studying her, there was a shadow in his gaze and Elizabeth felt vulnerable. Too vulnerable, and she broken the gaze with a heavy sigh. "Too young," she answered, her voice flat and emotionless. The mood in the room plummeted and Elizabeth felt more than a little responsibility. Her hand slipped into the small scacthel around her waist and her fingers curled possessively around the ocarina that was held within. It had been crafted of the mirthril, a gift from Lady Galadriel when Elizabeth had long ago expression a desire to learn how to play music. Lady Galadriel had told her this instrument suited her well, and Elizabeth never left the ocarina behind for it gave her a small amount of comfort from time to time. 

Bilbo watched her with a sad expression. Elizabeth always told him of her adventures, but he had a feeling she left more than a little out to spare him. Now, he wished he knew what could have created such a hollow, broken look in her eyes when Kili had asked that question. He wished he knew a way to help. "You're thinking too hard," he told her, after a moment. 

"No one has ever accused me of that before," Elizabeth attempted at the joke, and there was a bit of scattered laughter. She drew her ocarina free from her scatchel and idly rolled it in her palm while Bofur sat up a little straighter. 

"Going to play us a song, lass?" Bofur asked. 

"Oh…I don't know." She looked down at the ocarina in her hand thoughtfully. Elizabeth's lips pulled up into a slight grin, and she looked over to Thorin. She raised an eyebrow in a silent question of permission, and she swore she saw the corner of his mouth soften ever so slightly. The tiny gesture made him looking younger, and he inclined his head. Her grin broadened. "I play them…if Bilbo will sing them," she said, turning towards the hobbit who sat. 

"What?" Bilbo flushed underneath everyone's gazes. "Uh, I, well…I'm not that much of a singer," he said, fidgeting and twisting his hands together. 

"Oh, come now, Bilbo," Elizabeth said, arching a brow. "Do not sell yourself short. You are a great singer, everyone wants you to sing the songs at the Shire feasts." 

"That's because Lobelia was sick," Bilbo pointed out. 

"Which everyone was grateful for because Lobelia couldn't carry a tune to save her life," Elizabeth retorted, with an unladylike snort. "Half of the town practically go deaf from her cat wailing she calls singing." 

Kili sniggered loudly, and Fili wasn't doing much better. Bofur openly chuckled and even Dwalin cracked a tiny almost impossible to see kind of smile. Bilbo let out a resigned sigh, and looked at Elizabeth with a twinkle of amusement in his hazel gaze. "You aren't letting me out of this, are you?" Bilbo asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

"Nope," she said, simply. 

"Fine," Bilbo reluctantly gave in. Fili, Kili and Bofur cheered while Elizabeth let a smug grin come over her face. The hobbit glowered slightly, "You don't have to look so smug about it." 

"Of course," Elizabeth nodded, fighting hard to school her features. It failed because her lips twitched against her will and she quickly brought the ocarina to her lips. She tested a few notes, her brows furrowed as her fingers fumbled a few moments before she got her stride. After the first few notes, she saw Bilbo's eyes lit up in recognition and he drew in a deep breath. 

  
_Of all the money that e'er I had  
_

_I've spent it in good company  
_

_And all the harm that e'er I've done  
_

_Alas it was to none but me  
_

_And all I've done for want of wit  
_

_To memory now I can't recall  
_

_So fill to me the parting glass  
_

_Good night and joy be with you all_  


A content smile spread across Elizabeth's lips as the music flowed over and the bad memories went away. She leaned back in her chair never noticing Ori scribbling madly to capture the moment. Bilbo's falsetto voice was a bit shaky in the beginning, but grew stronger further as the song went along. 

__

Of all the comrades that e'er I had 

_They are sorry for my going away  
_

_And all the sweethearts that e'er I had  
_

_They would wish me one more day to stay  
_

_But since it falls unto my lot  
_

_That I should rise and you should not  
_

_That I should rise and I'll softly call  
_

_Good night and joy be with you all_  


It was a slow, bittersweet rhythm that tugged at one's heart strings. The chatter from the group had died down, and ever one had gone quiet listening. Gandalf's lips quirked up ever so slightly. After playing for a minute, she felt a movement beside her and raised her right eyelid ever so slightly to see Bilbo had come to sit in a chair beside her. His eyes gazed into her open one, and she inclined her head towards him ever so slightly as her lips quirked into a smile. Bilbo relaxed and fully let himself get into the song. 

  
__

A man may drink and not be drunk 

_A man may fight and not be slain  
_

_A man may court a pretty girl  
_

_And perhaps be welcomed back again  
_

_But since it has so ought to be  
_

_By a time to rise and a time to fall  
_

_Come fill to me the parting glass  
_

_Good night and joy be with you all  
_

_Good night and joy be with you all_  


As soon as the last word fell from his lips, Bilbo found himself clapped on the back by Bofur. "Full of surprises, aren't ye?" Bofur stated, with a broad smile. 

Bilbo smiled back. "I suppose I am," the hobbit allowed. 

"That was very good song," Balin commented, quietly. 

Elizabeth inclined her head. "It is," she murmured back, just as quietly. Elizabeth rolled the ocarina between her hands nervously, she still felt awkward that she had brought down such a merry mood so quickly earlier. Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something, maybe an apology, but it would not come. 

"May I?" Balin nodded at the ocarina. 

Elizabeth froze, then nodded. She held out the ocarina to the dwarf, and was pleased that Balin handled it with great care. "Mithril," he breathed out, running his fingers over it. He studied the craftsmanship with an expert eye, and marveled at how delicately the mithril had been crafted. He then passed it Dwalin who inspected it with a keen eye. 

"That's a fine instrument there," Dwalin stated, gruffly. Even he could not deny the fine craftsmanship put into making it. There were murmurs of agreement from the others, and he handed it to Thorin. 

Thorin took it and held it in the palm of his hand. It was light, barely weighed a thing. It must have took much patience in the make of the instrument, and suddenly Thorin went stock still as he tilted the ocarina towards the firelight. Thorin's mouth tightened, as his fingers brushed the elfish script that could only be seen when tilted towards the firelight. "It is crafted by elves," he said, his voice tight as the words passed through his lips. Dwalin blanched, looking a bit horrified that he gave such praise to elfish work. Balin just gave a low hum, and the rest of the dwarves mutters of agreement turned into disgruntled grunts. Elizabeth fought the urge to chuckle, and shared an amusement look with Gandalf who rolled his eyes subtly. 

"Yes, it is," Elizabeth answered, amicably. Her hands twitched wanting to snatch the instrument held tightly in Thorin's grasp and she felt the irrational fear that he would somehow managed to break it. She knew that mithril was one of the strongest metals in all of Middle Earth, but the ocarina looked tiny and fragile in Thorin's large hands. His fingers were calloused and scarred by years in the forges, and Elizabeth found it hard to believe they could ever be gentle. 

"Where did you get it?" Thorin asked, his blue eyes as hard as stone. His face was taunt with suspicious and his deep voice so cold that it sent a shiver down her spine. 

"A friend," she replied vaguely. She noted Thorin's shoulders tense at the vague answer and behind him, Dwalin openly scowled at her. 

"An… _elf_ friend?" Thorin bit out the word as if it tasted bad. "I suppose the same elf friend that gifted you with your daggers." 

It took everything in her to keep her expression blank, and polite when all she really wanted to do was snap and rip his head off for being so…so _rude_. She had thought they had reached common ground with all that occurred at the Barrows, but apparently not. Elizabeth took in a much needed breath while thinking off all the names she could call him and released it. "Why does that matter?" She asked, quietly. 

"It matters," Thorin grounded out. 

"Why?" Elizabeth shot back. "It has nothing to do with this quest or my ability to help you on it. It should bear no weight in the matter at all." 

Thorin's nostrils flared, incensed by her response. He wasn't a man who was disobeyed so easily. Unfortunately for him, Elizabeth wasn't a woman who obeyed easily. 

"It matters because I will not have a friend of elf scum in this company," the King Under the Mountain growled out. 

"Thorin," Gandalf began, his tone wary. 

Elizabeth snorted, in bitter amusement as she rose from her chair with a scowl in the King's direction. Thorin gave her a dark look. "What have you found so amusing?" He growled out. 

"Nothing, your majesty," Elizabeth gave him a flat look. "A thought just occurred to me is all." 

"I do not think we need to hear it," Gandalf stated, sharply. 

Thorin glared. "And what thought was that?" Intimidating was not a word sufficient enough to describe what he looked like in that moment though thunderous or like vicious wolf were as good as any. 

"You would have been a good orc," Elizabeth said, and then regretted it a split second later. It was something she never should have said, and she saw Gandalf close his eyes with a mournful sigh. 

Thorin's face sagged in shock, his blue eyes so wide that it was almost comically then comprehension dawned on him swiftly. His eyes narrowed into evil slits and his lips pulled back in a snarl. Thorin looked like an avenging angel as he strode towards her, and ever instinct in her told her to bolt. Her pride however kept her tether to the spot, her chin held up high. However before anything could happen Gandalf brought his staff down onto the floor with a loud thunderous thud. "Enough! Thorin you will hold your suspicious tongue," the wizard sent him a harsh glare. "Elizabeth brings no ill will upon your journey!" 

Thorin looked at the wizard grudgingly, and the hand upon his sword dropped to his side. He turned the coldest of looks upon Elizabeth, and pinned her there with it. "I will hold mine," he agreed, tersely. "If the wench can hold hers." 

"She will," Gandalf assured, a look sent in Elizabeth's direction as if he dared her to dispute his words. 

Elizabeth said nothing, simply stared at Thorin. The dwarf king gave her one last snarl before striding past her without another glance. He stormed out the door, and Balin rose with a sigh before the white haired dwarf made his way after. For a second, everything was silent and Elizabeth dropped into the chair her stomach churning with more than a little guilt. "Curse my words," she breathed out, and dropped her head into her hands. 

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she looked up to see Kili standing beside her. "I wouldn't worry too much," Kili told her, with a small grin. "Uncle has quite the temper." 

"Aye, that he does," Fili agreed. "I don't think he expected you to have one to match his." 

"We should head to bed," Dwalin ended the conversation, a bit of frost in his voice and Elizabeth winced. She supposed she should have expected since she insulted their king and comrade right in front of them. 

"Aye," several of the dwarves sat and shuffled off to bed. Kili hesitated for a moment before Fili nodded towards the cot, and he made his way over. After there was nothing to be done now. All the dwarves crawled into their beds until only Bilbo and Elizabeth remained by the fire. Gandalf had mysteriously slipped out shortly after Balin and Thorin had. The hobbit clapped his hands together with a odd expression on his face before he turned towards Elizabeth. "Well, that could have went better," Bilbo stated, quirking up a smile. 

Elizabeth gave him a flat look. 

"Right. Off to bed." 

* * *

Thorin stood on the balcony trying to solace in the night. He had never felt so enraged. Her words had struck deep, perhaps deeper than she knew, and he gripped the railing so tight that is splintered in his hold. With a heavy sigh, he drew his hands back and brushed off the shards of wood. "What is it you need, Balin?" Thorin asked, fighting to keep his voice light. 

"I am in no denial that you possess a temper, laddie," Balin started, his voice was soft and held no judgment. "But I had thought that you had learned to hold it better." 

Thorin said nothing, he just stared out across the small village that was covered in the shadows of the night until he looked up at the moon in the distance. It was just a sliver hidden behind the wispy clouds. Balin heaved a deep sigh, and stepped forward to stand at his side. "I know that ye not care for the likes of elves, Thorin," the white haired dwarf said, his hand coming to rest on the railing. "But I do not believe such a reaction warranted. You already knew that the lass was affiliated with elves, she does have elven weaponry on her." 

"And what reaction would you have me give?" Thorin twisted to face him, his expression still dour. "To be cordial with an elf friend?" 

"Elf friend or not, she agreed to come on this quest and she has put herself at risk for us if you have so forgotten," Balin pointed, for he needed to be the voice of reason when Thorin did not listen to his own. "And if I were to be bold, I would say that this has nothing to do with elves at all. I wouldn't even say the root of the problem is Elizabeth herself.” 

Thorin gave him a look, and Balin sighed again. "It is a matter of trust," Balin stated, softly. "Trust does not come easy to us dwarves, you most of all. It not a luxury you can afford to give easily, and it is not one that you want to give out. Especially to a child of man. She makes that difficult, doesn't she?" 

Thorin's expression tightened. "You are right. You are too bold," Thorin stated, his lips thinned out into a line. 

"Only when I need to be," Balin stated, with a half smile. "Do not hold her words too against her, Thorin. I do not believe the lass meant them, nor do I believe you meant yours." And with that Balin turned to walk away. Thorin stood there for several hours lost in though and only when the moon was high in the sky did he make his way back to the room. 

It was quiet, and dark. The fire had burned down to glowing embers and everyone was tucked into their beds, but he noticed that the wizard was missing. He made his way over to the empty cot only to pause at the foot of the bed. It was hard to believe that this bare slip of a woman had managed to infuriate him in such a manner. His blue eyes lingered on Elizabeth for longer than necessary before he marched over to his cot, and drew his cloak off his shoulders draping it across the nearby chair before he settled down into his cot. His thoughts were full of denials as an unsettling feeling churned in the pit of his stomach. Balin was the wisest he knew, but in this instances he was wrong. It was as simple as that. He was wrong. Thorin gripped the key around his neck. He had all he needed. He did not need her trust. He did not want it. 

Meanwhile in her cot, Elizabeth shifted and her brows pinched as dark thoughts circled her mind as she fell deeper into sleep. She had no warning at all as she fell into the nightmare, and then...then the screaming began. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you all enjoyed. Next Chapter: Elizabeth's nightmares return and TROLLS! And two unexpected people show up. :D  
> The Song that Bilbo Sung  
> "The Parting Glass" is a Scottish and Irish traditional song, often sung at the end of a gathering of friends. The poem was first printed in the 1770s and first appeared in book form in "Scots Songs" by Herd. But it actually dates back further than the 1770s. I imagine Peter Hollens verse as Bilbo singing. Go check it out on youtube.  
> Music helps me write. If I have a block or can't figure out how to word something, I'll find a piece of music and close my eyes and listen to it. So I've collected some songs, and decided to make a "Made of Stone OST".


	12. Never Met A Stranger Ranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivy and Bilbo talk. The Company leaves out from Bree, with two unexpected followers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> [](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/hobbitmadeofstone_zpsldeyhhba.png.html)  
>   
> 
> 
> THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE KUDOS! Thank you annievogel90, greasergirlalex, Starkid_Impala015, Just4Me, mehg11, EbonyLeijon, edelweissmaia, DanteOphydian, RegalMagnus, fairykia, Elashor_Seger, Dances_With_Vulcans, candy_hearts, i11iad, AgentLilyAEvans, and hwinde and 32 guests who left kudos on this story! YOU ALL ARE AMAZING!

CHAPTER TWELVE 

[ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/ch11_zpsjrvf5tfy.png.html)

“Never Met a Stranger Ranger”

* * *

A scream jolted everyone awake. 

It was a shrill, heart stopping sound that echoed off of each wall and jarred everyone deep down into their souls. Even Oin, hard of hearing, jolted straight up in bed fumbling for his hearing horn. Bilbo felt his heart ram into his throat as his eyes snapped open, he shoved himself off the cot and looked about wildly until his eyes landed on Elizabeth who was curled into a fetal position. Her posture was stiff, like she was made out of stone and not of flesh. Her chest did not rise or fall as it should and Bilbo felt a fear jab into his heart. 

“Wha’…wha’ goin’ on?” Bofur asked, his hat tumbling off his head as he struggled to get up off his cot with Bifur kicking him to get up as well. 

“What is wrong with her?” 

“She’s possessed!” Gloin shouted. 

Elizabeth looked as though she were trying to fight some kind of battle, her limbs awkward and twisted as she flayed about. Her chest rose and fell with sharp, raspy breath and horrible pained moan trembled deep within her throat. Words that were unintelligible tangle of words slipped through her lips as she dug her fingers into the sheets. 

“Elizabeth!” Bilbo kicked off his blankets, and rushed over to her side only to be beat by Thorin that had been on his feet in an instant. 

Thorin grasped Elizabeth with surprising care, one hand around her neck and the other around her shoulder and lifted her thrashing form off the bed. He shook her shoulders soundly. “Woman!” He barked, but Elizabeth’s lolled around. Her fluttered as her danced behind her eyelids madly. Thorin’s brows furrowed, in concern or anger Bilbo did not know, he just held his breath watching the scene unfold. 

“Woman!” Thorin shook her again. “Elizabeth, wake up!” 

[ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/035-vi_zpsu5kfe749.png.html)

It was if her name broke some spell, and her eyes snapped open and a ragged breath was pulled through her dry lips. She sat there, Thorin’s hand the only thing that kept her sitting up right there, her eyes not really seeing anything for a long moment. She blinked, once then twice before her brows drew together and her eyes focused on Thorin’s face. For a moment, she stared at him as if she couldn’t believe the sight in front of her. Her hand reached up and wrapped around his wrist. “Wh…wha’ happened?” Elizabeth asked, breathlessly. Her mind felt like full of cobwebs, and the beat of adrenaline in her blood. “Why…why is everyone awake?” 

Thorin did not say anything, but slowly let his hands fall from her as Elizabeth scooted back on the bed away from him. She was startled to see him so close to her, and having him so close to her made her heart jump in her chest. The faint scent of pine trees and earth and something purely masculine caressed her nose, and she felt a strange sensation roll across her skin. 

“You were screaming, lass,” Dwalin answered her. 

Her eyes jerked up towards his, and her mouth dropped open in shock. “Screaming? I was screaming?” She couldn’t seemed to comprehend it, then her face fell and she looked down feeling her cheeks burn with some akin to shame. “I’m…so sorry,” she whispered out, swallowing thickly. She reached up running her hands through her hair nervously, and she wanted to say more. Felt that she should, but she didn’t know how. 

Bofur was always one to cut the tension. “Well, would have woken to someone’s dulcet tones at the ass crack of dawn anyways,” Bofur grinned, broadly. He tossed a wink at Elizabeth. “No harm done.” 

Thorin gave him a stony look, before he glanced back at Elizabeth. She looked pale and shaken despite the smile she tried to conjure up. Her hair was bedraggled, half of it down in curls the rest being held by the it. She looked incredibly small curled up like, even more so than usually. He could that he could span her tiny waist with his hands, and he shook his head of the thought immediately. He had no right to be thinking of her waist in such a manner. Her eyes were dim, those eyes that reminded him of the lush mines deep with in the mountain that glittered with gold, silver, and much more. 

She was trying valiantly to hide her discomfort, but with so many eyes on her, it radiated from her in almost discernible waves. Thorin stared at her for a moment longer before he rose in one graceful movement, and he looked around at all the company. “Gather your things. We make our leave of this place within the hour,” he said, then swept out of the room to leave them all to their own devices. 

And just like that, everything went back to normal. Or so it seemed, but Elizabeth could detected an underlining tension within everyone. Was it because of the things that she said to Thorin last night? Or was it because of her nightmare that she could only faintly recall? Or both? Bilbo stood by his cot, and looked at her worried. “I’m fine,” she mouthed to him. She tried to muster up a smile for him, but she had a feeling he didn’t believe it as he went about gathering his things. Elizabeth scrubbed her tired eyes, and watched the dwarves move about with a despondent expression on her face. A hand landed on her shoulder and she looked up to see Gandalf offering her a quick, encouraging smile before he past by. 

* * *

Bilbo was standing in the stables, standing in front of Myrtle. The sneezing wasn’t so bad now he had a handkerchief, curtsey of Elizabeth. He stroked Myrtle’s neck gently while sneaking her an apple he had gotten, and he was so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice someone sneak up on him. “You really are leaving, aren’t you?” A voice came from behind him. Bilbo whirled around to see Ivy standing there, leaning against the stall with a soft and sad smile on her face. “I have to say I never thought I would see that day when Bilbo Baggins went away,” Ivy said, her voice barely more than a whisper. A mirthful gleam entered her eyes as she noticed Myrtle trying to eat the carrot he hid behind his back. “Still sneaking the animals treats, hmm?” 

“I-I…” Bilbo looked flustered. “I have no idea what you are talking about--ah!” He yipped when Myrtle nipped his fingers in order to get the rest of the apple. He gave Myrtle a look, but the small pony unrepentantly chewed on her prize. 

Ivy chuckled, with a slight shake of her head. “It’s nice to know some things never change,” she said, her hands clasped behind her back as she walked towards him. 

“Uh, yes. I suppose some things never do,” Bilbo stated, tugging at his collar for his face felt too flush. Ivy always managed to make him feel like he had lost him balance, and he could never quite get it back. 

“But you aren’t one of them, are you?” Ivy asked, softly. 

Bilbo paused. “What do you mean?” The hobbit blinked. 

Ivy didn’t answer, right away. “It was unfair of me to ask that of you all those years ago,” she commented, her eyes filled with shadows as she recalled the past. 

“Ivy,” Bilbo started, but she shook her head slightly. 

“I knew you weren’t ready to leave the Shire. I knew your heart was still tied to it…” Ivy fingers brushed the bracelet around her wrist. The beads were carved out of a rich golden wood, and had been made with love. “Maybe if I hadn’t been such a coward, I would have stayed, too.” 

“Don’t,” Bilbo told her, sharply. His heart ached as he watched the painful emotions flicker across her face. “Don’t call yourself that. I understood why you left, Ivy. I always understood. I was never mad at you and I never hated you. Never.” 

Ivy drew in a soft breath, and blinked hard. So emotion that had she been holding back for so long were boiling to the surface and she undid the string that held her bracelet to her wrist. On the center of the bracelet was a little locket, and Bilbo watched the bracelet fall from her slid wrist and felt his heart ram up into his throat. “I never hated you, either,” Ivy told him, her watery eyes staring up at him. 

“You still have it,” Bilbo looked stunned. 

“Of course I do,” Ivy smiled, sadly. “You made it for me.” 

Bilbo couldn’t speak for a long moment. “Why? Why would you keep it for so long? After everything?” Bilbo rubbed the spot on his chest, right above his heart that twisted and burned with pain. 

“Because…because it’s hard,” Ivy said, twisting the wooden bracelet between her fingers nervously. Her expression was heartbreaking sad that it made Bilbo’s heart hurt. “It’s hard to wait for something that might never happen. It’s even harder to give up when it’s everything you ever wanted.” She then lifted her gaze to stare straight into his and reached out to slowly tie the bracelet around his wrist. Bilbo did not fight, nor resist though his eyebrow climbed towards his hairline. “I want you…to take this with you. So you remember while you are out there finding yourself,” Ivy said, her voice a husky sigh, “that there is something to return for.” 

Bilbo let a out a shuddering breath. “You still care,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “After all this time…after you asked me to come with you and I told you…I told you no. You could have moved on. With someone…with someone better…” 

“There was no one better to give my heart to than you,” Ivy told him, sincerely. “I met what I said all those years ago. No matter what has happened through the years, no matter how fair apart we’ve been that will never change…” 

His brows furrowed, and his breathing was uneven. “You still care…after so long,” Bilbo stated, as if he couldn’t believe. He would be lying if he had never dreamt about making a different choice all those years ago. To redo it. To change it. Oh, how he had longed to for so long. 

“I never stopped, Bilbo,” Ivy told him. She leaned forward her hands cupping his face and pressed a kiss to his cheek then hesitated before she pressed one to his lips. It only last a split second, but Bilbo felt his whole being ache for it last forever. He let out a harsh breath when she pulled away, and she whispered, “Good luck on your journey, Bilbo. I hope that you find everything that you are looking for.” 

“Ivy,” he breathed out, his hand reaching up to cup hers for a moment before she smiled at him and slipped away. He watched her walk away, again. A lump welled in his throat as the ‘what if’ and ‘maybes’ all cluttered to the front of his mind. Yet he once again he let her walk away. His heart told him that the timing wasn’t right, that he did not deserve such devotion after letting her walk away the first time. She asked him to run away with her, and he had been the coward and let her go. He looked down at the bracelet around his wrist and gently he pried open the tiny locket before he could help himself. He pressed his hand to his mouth to muffle a broken sound that threatened to fall from his lips. On one side of the locket, he The pictures were hand drawn by a steady hand, his own hand, to capture the details he had. It was one of the last pictures he had ever drawn. 

“Bilbo.” 

Bilbo jumped and whirled around to see Elizabeth standing there. Her head was tilted to the side, and her eyes were filled with concern as she frowned lightly at him. “Are you alright?” Elizabeth asked, her hand rested gently on his shoulder. It was an anchor in the storm of emotions that he was feeling. 

“Of course I am,” Bilbo said, with a trembling smile. 

“Then why are you crying?” Elizabeth countered, softly. 

“Crying?” Bilbo blinked, his fingers reached up to touch his cheek. He found it wet and warm with a tears. “Oh…I am crying, aren’t I?” The hobbit said, as if he were bemused. There was a slight hitch in his throat that gave him away. 

“Bilbo,” Elizabeth started, but Bilbo shook his head. 

“Not now, Elizabeth,” the hobbit begged, quietly. “I know that you mean well. You always do, but right now…right now, I need to keep all of this to myself. You understand that, don’t you?” 

Elizabeth stared at him, silent for a long moment before she nodded. “Yes. I understand it,” she told him, her voice was kind and her compassion towards him overwhelming. “Just now that whenever, if you ever, want to speak…I will always listen.” 

Bilbo composed himself, and cleaned his face on the back of his sleeve. “Please…don’t tell anyone about this,” the hobbit asked, a mixture of mortification and sheepishness on his face at the very thought of the others discovering him crying. 

“I won’t,” Elizabeth assured him, quietly. 

Bilbo looked at her. “If you ever want to talk, I will listen too. I know that you rarely wish to unburden yourself onto others, preferring to carry them yourself, but a burden shared is a burden halved. Please keep that in mind.” 

“I will,” Elizabeth smiled. “Now, let’s go before our illustrious leader starts least he be in a mood.” She silently swore the dwarf was one of the most cantankerous people she had ever met. _Not that calling him an orc made it any better_ , Elizabeth thought, with a wince and her eyes flickered to Thorin who stood a ways down speaking to Gandalf and Balin in hushed tones. She wished to apologize. She truly did, but she did not think Thorin would hear it. He was a stubborn dwarf after all and she hated the fact that when his eyes landed on her, that she felt him judge her worth and found her wanting. She let out a heavy sigh, feeling that there was a long day ahead of them. 

* * *

He watched them leave with a serious look in his grey gaze. He would wait for several moments before he made to follow, their trail still fresh enough to follow yet distance between them so suspicions of being followed would not stir. A gentle hand the color of pale marble landed on his shoulder, and a woman with red lips a blue obscuring her face in shadows. Ebony hair hung down wrapped around her delicate chin, and she tilted her head towards him. “So I see why you are concerned,” she said, her voice soft and sweet like music. “It seems Mithrandir has meddled once again, but to what end?” 

“We should follow and find out,” the man said, with a smirk. The woman’s reply was answering with a mischievous smile of her own. 

* * *

The rain had started gently. A drop here or there, but that with a loud rush of wind and suddenly that all changed. It went from barely sprinkling to torrential rain pouring down upon them in the blink of an eye. The Company trotted through the muddy forest. Everyone looked cold, wet, and miserable. Except for Elizabeth, who ever since she was child loved the rain. A fond smile curved her lips when she remembered Erestor scolding her one time when he caught her out in the rain. Aracala trotted about, and tossed her mane about wildly with a little neigh. She, too, was enjoying the rain. 

“Will this rain never cease?” The dwarves were not enjoying the rain, and were not afraid to complain about it. Dori was being the most vocal. “Haven’t had a decent spot of tea in ages, and now we have to deal with this downpour,” Dori said, with a sour twist of his lips as he scowled upward at this sky. 

“You had tea back at Bree this morning,” Ori pointed out, quietly. 

“Like I said ages ago,” Dori stated as if that should have been obvious. Behind him, Nori rolled his eyes with a look of exasperation upon his face. 

Bofur just snorted, and tilted his head forward to let out all the rain that had gathered on the top of his hat off. It was weighing his hair down. He paused when he caught Elizabeth’s smile and his eyebrows rose. “What are you smiling about?” Bofur wanted in on the joke. 

Elizabeth glanced over at him. “Nothing,” she shook her head. It was silly thing to be smiling about, but she could not help it. She had always loved the rain. The sound of it, the smell of it and the feel of it. 

“It must be something to be smiling in this,” Bofur gestured up at the clouds. 

Elizabeth rolled her head backwards, and glanced up at the bluish grey clouds with a slightly wistful smile on her face. “It is because of that I smile,” she told him, with a shrug of her shoulders. “I love the rain.” 

“You love the rain?” Bofur looked stunned. 

“You cannot be telling me you actually like this storm, lass,” Dwalin stated, gruffly. He craned his head so he peer over his shoulder at her and she just gave another helpless little shrug. “You are strange, lassie. Strange.” 

“I’ve been called worse,” Elizabeth stated, lightly. 

“I personally cannot wait for the sun to come back out,” Bilbo said, with his brow furrowed. His face was not in a scowl because he did not hate the rain. He was a hobbit, and hobbits loved all things that grow and things could not grow without the rain. He, however, did wish that it didn’t rain so much, or hard enough to knock him too and fro on his saddle. He feared he would fall right off. 

“Those who prefer sunshine have never known the joy of dancing in the rain,” Elizabeth countered, smoothly with the hint of a teasing smile on the edge of her lips. 

“Dancing in the rain? You’ll catch your death doing that,” said Dori, with an paralleled look on his face. His eyes snapped towards Ori and he pointed a finger at his youngest brother. “Don’t you ever think about it.” 

“Dori,” Ori groaned. 

Dori was not listening. He had turned towards the wizard because surely he would be able to do something about it. “Here, Mr. Gandalf, can’t you do something about this deluge?” Dori asked, and half of the company perked up hopefully. 

Gandalf sighed. “It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard,” the Grey wizard stated, with a shake of his head. _Honestly, stop the rain,_ Gandalf thought as rain slip off the rim of his hat like a fountain. 

Elizabeth pressed her lips together in an effort to keep her amusement contain. Gandalf was Gandalf, and he would never change. Bilbo frowned thoughtfully, “Are there any?” 

“What?” Gandalf slowed his horse down so he ride side by side with the hobbit. 

“Other wizards?” Bilbo prompted. 

Gandalf inclined his head. “There were five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two Blue Wizards, you know, I’ve forgotten their names,” he said, offhandedly. 

“Alatar and Pallando,” Elizabeth said, suddenly. The names had been practically beaten into her memory by Erestor and Glorfindel. When she asked why it was so important, the elves merely stated that one day she would understand. So far she did not. 

“Hmm?” Gandalf looked over at her. 

“Their names. Or at least, the names they were most known by. We all know how you wizards love you great variety of names,” Elizabeth said, with an eyebrow arched in the wizard’s direction. 

“And who are you to speak of names?” Gandalf retorted, with a good natured chuckle. “You have garnered quite an assortment of names for yourself if I do recall correctly.” 

Elizabeth grimaced. “You have to remind me,” she muttered underneath her breath. 

“And who is the fifth?” Bilbo asked, drawing the conversation back to the subject at hand. He had heard stories about other wizards, but gossip in the Shire was usually fantastical or dramatized (especially if it was spread by Lobelia). He wanted to know some of the truth from the most reliable source, Gandalf. 

“Well, that would be Radagast, the Brown,” Gandalf said. 

“Is he a great Wizard or is he...more like you?” Bilbo asked, bluntly. 

“Oh, ha!” Elizabeth twisted her saddle away from the offended wizard in an attempt to conceal her guffaws of laughter. It was a complete and utter failure. 

The wizard glowered at her for a long moment before he straighten in his saddle. “I think he’s a very great wizard, in his own way. He’s a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the East, and a good thing too, for always Evil will look to find a foothold in this world.” 

“That and he is the procure of some _excellent_ mushroom,” Elizabeth couldn’t help, but to add. “If you understand my meaning.” 

Gandalf just sighed. “You are incorrigible,” he huffed, and rode off to the front of the group leaving Elizabeth there fighting laughter as Bilbo was giving her a strange look. 

“Mushrooms?” He asked, his eyebrows in his hairline. 

“Well, I wasn’t always this put together you know,” she stated, teasingly. 

“You aren’t all that put together now,” Bilbo pointed out. 

“Don’t I know it,” her smile crumbled a tiny bit, and her tone was a bit more solemn then she intended. Bilbo didn’t seem to catch it for he was immediately pulled into some discussion with Bofur and she was grateful he missed it. No one should have to be burden with her tangled web of emotions and troubles. The hairs on the back of her neck rose up and she fold her gaze sliding up from her hands twisted around the reigns to meet Thorin’s slate blues. He brows were furrowed in a light scowl as he regarded her from over his shoulder, and she looked back at him a bit wide eyed and startled. Then suddenly just like that, he turned away and the spell was broken. 

Elizabeth felt her teeth gnash together. Why did that dwarf seem to have such a profound effect on her? Like everything she tried to hide was laid bare for his eyes to see and to judge? She drew in a deep breath, and tried to find some solace in the rain that she loved so much. 

She could not. 

* * *

The sky had cleared half way through the day to everyone’s unease, except Elizabeth who mourned the loss of the rain. Rain drops dripped off the tree leaves, and hit the ground in a gentle rhythm. Elizabeth stared at the old, abandoned farmhouse that was now in ruins with a dubious glance before she looked over at Thorin who drew his stead to halt. He could not be seriously thinking that this was a safe place to stop. She made a noise prepared to protest when she found herself choking on her words. She had little value in Thorin’s eyes, and her standing had already plummeted with the insult that she had dealt him. Any words that she gave him would not be well received. She would leave Gandalf to mince words with the King in Exile. 

“We’ll camp here for the night.” Thorin announced, he dropped down off the horse and his feet hit the ground with a solid thud. “Oin, Gloin,” he glanced at the pair of brothers as the got down from the horses. “Get a fire going. We will need the warmth.” 

“Right you are,” Gloin nodded. “Come on, Oin.” 

“Go on what?” Oin’s face wrinkled with confusion as he fiddled with his ear horn. Gloin signed for him to follow him and the pair set off into the nearby words. 

“A farmer and his family used to live here,” Gandalf murmured, as he walked around the ruins of the house and turned over a piece of wood with the end of his staff. 

“Did you know them?” Elizabeth asked, quietly. She used the saddle to steady herself as she slipped off Aracala, and she shook out her legs lightly. They were numb from the combination of the rain and riding all day. 

“I did,” Gandalf said, solemnly. They had been quiet and gentle folks who were kind to him every time he passed. He remembered conjuring fireworks for the children’s amusement, a young boy barely three and a daughter of eight annuals. “Something happened here,” he said, underneath his breath and his grey narrowed. He then raised his head with a sense of purpose and started towards Thorin who was surveying the area with a severe glance. “I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley.” 

“No,” Thorin said, with the sound of thunder. “I told you when you broached the subject the evening past, I will not go near that place.” 

Gandalf held his patience. “Why not? The elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice,” he commented, hoping the dwarf would see reason. 

“I do not need their advice,” Thorin said, with a dismissive sneer. His jaw clenched tightly as the anger boiled in his gut. He would not lower himself to go sniveling to the elves for help when they disregarded the dwarves in their time of need. 

“Thorin listen to reason,” Gandalf stated, with a heavy sigh. “We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us.” 

“Help?” Thorin practically spat out the word as if it tasted like bile upon his tongue. He whirled around upon the Grey wizard, with fury mounting upon his face. “A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing. You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather and betrayed my father.” 

Gandalf looked upon Thorin with a bit of anger, but most of all disappointment. “You are neither of them,” Gandalf told him, his voice stern and strained with the effort to hold his temper in check. Only dwarves could bring him so close to losing it. “I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past.” 

“I did not know that they were yours to keep,” Thorin countered, darkly. 

Gandalf drew in a swift breath, and turned around stalking past a wide Elizabeth who had watched the scene from afar. She wisely let the wizard stomp off without a word, however Bilbo did not understand what was going on. “Everything alright? Gandalf, where are you going?” Bilbo asked. 

“To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense,” the wizard barked. 

“And that would be…?” Bilbo continued, befuddled. 

“Himself, Bilbo,” Elizabeth replied, passing him. 

“Indeed!” Gandalf huffed. “I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day.” The wizard stalked out of sight, and Elizabeth winced ever so slightly. 

“Is…is he coming back?” Bilbo asked. Honestly, Gandalf’s presences had been one of his few reassurances so far on this journey and he couldn’t help the sense of unease that fell over his journey. 

Balin looked unsure. 

“He will,” Elizabeth assured him. “He comes and goes as he pleases such is the way of wizards.” She watched Gandalf go before she looked across the ruin house at Thorin. His blue eyes looked around the broken house with a deep frown upon his face before he raised his gaze and caught hers. Elizabeth stared at him for a long moment, and felt an strange urging inside her chest. As if she wanted to reach out towards him, and do something to ease that haunted shadow that flickered in his gaze. Instead, she turned her head away while rubbing absentmindedly the spot right above her head. 

[ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/untitled-64_zpshn3y3qap.png.html)

Thorin worked his jaw before he gathered his wits about him. “Bombur, food,” he ordered, shortly. His ill mood had only been soured further by Gandalf’s suggestion. _You are neither of them,_ Gandalf’s words still rang in his ears incessantly like an annoying bee buzzing about. The words hit him like a jagged blow from an enemies dagger for despite all of their faults, he loved his grandfather and his father. No amount of madness would change that. As a boy he idolized them, and as a boy he lost all those illusions. He drew in a measured breath, and glanced at the camp where everyone was carefully avoiding his gaze. “Fili, tend to the horses. Not you Kili,” he said when Kili made to follow his brother. “Training.” 

Kili barely restrained a groan. 

* * *

Elizabeth had wandered a bit of ways from camp. 

She was a feeling a bit restless, and felt the need to stretch her legs after a long day’s ride. Her multicolored eyes raked across the forest for any edible plants or berries. She had her bow clasped loosely in her hand just in case an animal scurried by like a rabbit or squirrel. A small deer might be good, enough for dinner and perhaps some rations. A large would be far too much meat. On the move, they would have no time to make use of much it and she feared it would mostly go to waste. She hated wastefulness for she knew how it was to go without. To be so hungry that it was a clawing and gnawing agony. The only time the pain stopped was when exhaustion crept in. So she would have to stick to smaller prey, she thought with a half sigh. 

She took another step forward when a flash of red made her halt. Elizabeth blinked and looked down with a frown upon her face. “Elgaran,” she murmured, surprised and knelt to inspect the flower more closely. She ran her fingertips gently over the blood-red petals with a look of awe on her face. The flower had grown in Middle-earth since the First Age, and was more often than not considered an evil omen. According to legend, Elgaran thrived on mishap, death and suffering only growing where the bones of dead Men rest. Despite the misgivings towards the plant, it was quite helpful for it was a powerful antitoxin and could help cure even the trickiest of poisons. 

A noise from the bushes to her side made her stiffen, and she drew her bow up to use a shield while her other hand pinched around the base of an arrow ready to draw it out. Her fears were for not when Bofur and Bifur stumbled through the bushes. She drew back slightly then rose to her feet slowly and Bofur blinked at her momentarily stunned as much as she had been. His face then broke out into a cheeky smile. “Oh! Dinae see you there, lass! Sorry if we gave you a bit of a scare, we just answering nature’s call if you get my drift.” 

“I got it,” Elizabeth said, with a wry half smile. 

Bifur stared at her a long moment, and his gaze was very intense. He stared at her for a long moment before he stared speaking his words mixed with grunts, and then he gestured towards her eyes. Her smile slipped on her face a little bit for she did not need a translation to understand that. “My eyes?” Elizabeth asked, with a slight hesitation in her voice. “They weren’t always so strange,” she felt no harm in divulging. “They were once green, though do not ask me to recall the shade. It has been a while since they have been this way.” 

Bifur gestured and grunted, looking towards Bofur to translate. “He asks, what happened to them?” Bofur asked, and admittedly he was a bit curious himself. He had never seen anyone be it dwarf or man with such strange eyes. 

Elizabeth now came to an abrupt halt in the path. Her smile was lost, and her brow pinch together as if she solving a very difficult puzzle before she glanced over at them. “I do not know,” she stated, and it is only half a lie. She only knew she was cursed, but the why was not known to her. She saw no reason to burden them with that. “They just became that way.” 

“Huh…” Bofur and Bifur made the noise. 

She spared them a sympathetic smile knowing her answer wasn’t really an answer at all. She glanced around and a light frown came to her face when she realized that she did not hear the light scurry of animal feet, nor anything at all really. Even the crickets that would start to come out at sunset were unusually quiet, but Elizabeth was jolted out of her thoughts when Bofur asked her something. “What?” She blinked, owlishly at him. 

“We make back for camp,” Bofur told her. “You are welcome to join us.” 

Elizabeth glanced around then nodded. “I will,” she said, sliding her bow on her arm and walked beside them. The journey was short. No more than five minutes, but it was five minute well spent with Bofur telling her he was a toymaker like his cousin, Bifur. Bifur slowly uncurled his palm to show her the carving of a fox he had been working on. She was amazed and awe by the amount of detail he managed to capture and told him so. Bifur puffed up with pride from the praise. 

When they set foot into camp, Bifur and Bofur had parted ways with her. Elizabeth looked around and saw everyone working on settling in. She was intent on finding Bilbo when the clash of swords and shields startled her, and the setting sun striking the metal made her grimace and advert her gaze downward for a brief second. With a hard blink, she focused her gaze away from the reflections dancing through the air and to the fighters in an age old dance. Her lips parted in surprise, and she sucked in a harsh breath. Thorin was sparring with Kili in only his boots and leggings. His bare chest gleamed with a sheen of sweat, and a trickle of blood slid down his side. She watched in fascination, unable to look elsewhere though logically she told herself it was not the first time she saw males sparing without tunics on. However, that did nothing to halt the way her eyes danced across his broad shoulders, and she noted that his massive chest sported several runic tattoos and scars. So many scars. A man like him didn’t leave to be as old as he without earning a few battle scars. She, herself, had quite a few. 

“You alright there, lassie?” Dwalin came to stand beside her, with an eyebrow arched. 

“What?” She jolted, her head twisting towards him while she blinked rapidly. “Uh…yes. Yes, quite alright,” she nodded, with a reassuring smile. “And yourself?” 

“Ah, you don’t worry about me, lass,” Dwalin stated, gruffly. “I can take care of myself.” “Of that I have no doubt, Master Dwalin,” Elizabeth said, with a slight laugh. Her eyes glanced over at Dwalin’s ear, or his half of one and she frowned delicately. “Are you all so scarred?” She asked, then her cheeks went red with a flush. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean…that was very rude and--” 

Dwalin dismissed her worries with a jerky wave of his hand. “I know you meant no harm, lass,” he said, with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Scars are badges of honor to us dwarves. Reminders of how hard we fought, of all that we have survived, of what we have lost and reasons to keep going onward. A dwarf without them is considered weak and without courage.” 

“Badges of honor,” Elizabeth murmured, her eyes swept back to Thorin. “That’s a nice way to put it,” she said, with a slight smile upon her face. He was intimidating, his face hard and his eyes cold as he fought. She hadn’t realized she had spoke out loud until Dwalin replied. 

“Aye. Most people find Thorin intimidating,” Dwalin agreed. 

“Then they must find you downright terrifying,” Elizabeth said, her cheeks a bit flushed. She had not wanted anyone to know that she found their leader intimidating. 

Dwalin let out a bark of laughter, then inclined his head in agreement. “Aye, they do,” he gave a roguish grin, no a lick of shame about it. 

Thorin’s hair clung damply to his back and his braids swung about him as he lunged forward, blacking another thrust made by Kili. His muscles were taunt and strained as he swung his heavy sword about his head and slashed downward. Kili’s eyes widened and he threw up his sword to block the blow, but it was no use. The force caused his knees to buckle and the younger dwarf was sent sprawling to the ground. Kili laid there panting softly, and Thorin frowned. He extended his hand down to his nephew, and helped him to his feet. 

Kili looked visibly downtrodden by the defeat, and Thorin clasped him on the shoulder. “Kili, look at me,” Thorin ordered, calmly. Kili raised his downcast eyes, and tried to hide the trepidation that lingered there. “You have done well, Kili and have improved greatly. You lasted twice the amount that you did last time, but you mustn’t allow your emotions to rule your actions. Your enemies will use it to their advantage, understand?” 

“I understand, uncle,” Kili nodded, after a moment. 

“Good. Good,” Thorin nodded, allowing a trace of a smile come across his face. “Now, go help your brother with the horses.” 

“Yes, uncle,” Kili replied, and picked up his sword off the ground before headed towards his brother. It was then that Thorin looked up and saw Elizabeth standing there with Dwalin. His eyes narrowed, and she felt pinned by the force of the stare then she felt his eyes slid down to her waist where her sword was sheathed and an unsettled sensation knotted in her gut. 

“Woman,” Thorin said, his voice demanded attention. 

“Dwarf,” she shot back after a brief pause. Her eyes were slightly narrowed and her lips pursed as she couldn’t quite figure out what to make of him in that moment. There was a bit of wariness that crept along her spine. She did not know why, her heart pounded inside her chest. 

Thorin’s brows furrowed, and he stared at her for a long moment. “I wish to test your mettle,” Thorin stated, suddenly. Something dark flickering through his gaze as he tilted his head to the side like a cat that was about to toy with a mouse. “You say you will be of use on this quest, that you can help us reclaim our homeland…prove to me that your word is worth it’s weight.” 

The challenge lingering in the air, sharp like a guillotine poised over her neck waiting to fall. She inhaled sharply, and she could feel the tension boil in the air like hot lightning on a violent and stormy night. Her eyes stared at him and her lips were pressed into a fine line. “Very well,” she agreed, and she heard Bilbo’s breath catch behind her. She dropped her satchel to the ground, and unfastened her cloak. It slid off her shoulder, and the wind caught it before it took fell upon the ground. “But I will let you know this, Thorin, I’m not easily bested.” 

“We shall see,” was Thorin’s reply. 

Elizabeth dropped her bow, and quiver next to Bofur before she walked across the camp, that was silent as the dead of night, before she reached where Thorin stood. He stood tense, and alert, his eyes grazed her from head to toe with a startling intensity. 

They stood there for a long moment. A stare down where both opponents looked for the others weakness, and she hoped that her weaknesses were as well hidden as Thorin’s. The dwarf was a wall of muscles, and though he adorn no armor, she did not think he would be an easy enemy to fall. A heartbeat later and Thorin lunged forward with a battle cry on his lips. Elizabeth had barely a second to react, but she did. The clash of blade against blade echoed through the camp while all the dwarves watched mesmerized by the dance that unfolded. 

It was a dance. The back and forth between the two. Thorin had strength and skill whereas Elizabeth had speed and imagination. Each strike of the blade against blade was like a tune and their eyes never blinked, never let their opponent unless it couldn’t be helped. There was a strange sort of intimacy in it, it moved like a gentle current underneath the battle. It was not something that Thorin had anticipated and it hit him like punch to the gut. He shoved her backwards with all his strength, and she allowed herself to fall into the movement gracefully as if it were own design then to fall and end up on the ground helpless. 

She had only gone two steps when his hand fastened on her arm. With a harsh breath, she drove her elbow into his stomach. He grunted as she pivoted to strike out with one foot, and she drew her sword up. Her heart pounded in her chest, and for a moment she felt paralyzed by the blinding speed with which he moved. He’d hit her so hard in the ribs that she couldn’t squeeze breath into her lungs. She raised her shocked and unfocused gaze up to see him lumbering towards her and she immediately shook off the haze. She rolled to her feet, picking up her sword in one swift moment and stood to face him once more. 

“Yield,” he demanded, his sword raised in warning. 

She knew. She knew that when she uttered the denial he would retaliate. He seemed quite determined to break her down. But she had survived much worse than what he could deal out, and she refused to yield at the first sign of defeat. If she had done that, she would not be drawing breath right now. She raised her head, squared her shoulders and her spine was the steel of a broadsword. “Nay.” 

Thorin gave her a grudging look, and perhaps there was a hint of admiration deep within his gaze. But Elizabeth couldn’t tell for the next second, he lunged forward once more and began his assault. Elizabeth fought more fierce this time, putting more force behind her slashes hoping to have an element of surprise. She twisted around in a smooth arch, and slashed at his arm. She saw a flash of surprise in his blue eyes, as red drops ran down his arm. Then his eyes narrowed, and Elizabeth steeled herself against his next attack. 

_Thrust. Parry. Dodge. Parry again._ The brutal spar seemed to have no end in sight until Elizabeth felt her foot slip against a root, he had her backed up to the edge of the forest. She slammed back into the truck of a tree, and barely got her sword pressed against his stomach when his blade pressed against her neck. Her heart thundered in her chest, and for a moment neither of them spoke. No words could describe what passed through them, not even them. 

Thorin’s chest rose fell with his ragged breath as his gaze pressed down on her. “You will yield,” Thorin demanded. This had gone far beyond testing one’s mettle and he had known it would. It was a volatile inevitable reaction between the pair. She challenged him over everything, in front of those he was supposed to leave and leveled insults at him without blinking an eye. Part of him admired the fiery spirit, but the commander in him demanded respect. However, that was not all that he demanded. Something passed between, an awareness he had not encountered before and he felt angry and confused by what it was. 

“I will not,” she said, just as fiercely. She would not yield, and she would not bow. Not to anyone. Not again. “I’m not yours to command.” 

“Oh, but you are. The moment you signed that contract, you came under my command. You will obey me,” Thorin stated, the blade scraped her neck. Not cutting the delicate flesh of her throat, but unyielding nonetheless. 

She raised her chin, staring straight directly into those piercing blue yes. “I am not some wilting flower to fall at your first command, and if you think you can beat me into submission you are welcome to try,” she told him, her voice unwavering as her heart pounded in her chest. “But you will fail.” 

Outrage sparked in his eyes, and his mouth gaped open. _Beat her into…_ The thought didn’t have a chance to finish before the anger boiled up in his veins. The fury in his gaze had Elizabeth stepping back. She had struck a nerve, and anger rolled off the King-in-Exile’s shoulders like tidal waves. Thorin felt such vexation for the small woman in front of him, and his frustration quickly sharpened his tongue. 

“You test my patients, woman. You have gone so far beyond being an annoyance I can’t find a word suitable to describe you,” Thorin growled out, his hands clenched at fists at his sides. If Thorin hadn’t been watching her every move, he might have missed the shock that flashed through her eyes before she cast her gaze away from him in an attempt to compose herself. An uncomfortable guilt lanced through him, immediately followed by an indignant anger for why should he feeling guilt for stating the truth. However, the fact that he managed to put that look in her warm, carefree eyes hit him harder than he ever could have anticipated. She twisted away from him, her shoulder ramrod straight and she never faltered once in her step as she walked towards the hobbit, in an unhurried pace as if she had not been offended or hurt at all. 

She twisted back towards him, her lips thinned out as she sheathed her weapon. “Then forgive me, O’Wise Leader, for being burden on your shoulders. I’ll certainly make it a point to leave you alone from now on, since that is apparently what you like best,” Elizabeth replied, her nose up in the air and with one last frosty look in his direction she turned on heel and sailed through the trees in the opposite direction from their camp. 

Thorin stood there a moment, watching her heart shaped behind sway with her furious steps before he realized what he was doing and twisted away with more vehemence than needed. He told himself that he was glad to be rid of her. He said he was not responsible for the woman, and it wasn’t his concern if she was daft enough to go wandering the woods at night. He wasn’t going to worry about it, nor would he waste one thought what dangers she could get herself into. It was not his concern, he told himself firmly. He ignored the stares and marched over to his armor and started putting it back on. 

Bilbo sat there with a sour look on his face, and he had several choice words on the tip of his tongue for the Company’s leader when Bombur shoved two bowls into his hands. “Go take that to Fili and Kili would you,” Bombur said. 

Bilbo looked down at the bowls and gave a nod with a quiet sigh. He turned and made his way into the forest, but not before shooting a glare over his shoulder at Thorin. 

* * *

She shouldn’t have let his words get to her. 

Words were after all words, and words could only strike one if one let them. So why did Thorin’s always have a profound reaction with her? Her expression was pinched as she trudged through the forest. Darkness obscured her vision, and the only faint traces of the moonlight guided her path. Her hands were curled at her before she forced her hands to relax and let out a long slow breath. She peered through the shadows with a frown attached to her lips, and she knelt downward towards the ground. Her fingers brushed against the wet, damp earth and it sent a shiver down her spine. It was cold, like ice and she felt it down deep in her bones and suddenly she was thrown back to being eight again. 

_It had been raining that day. Thunder and lightning. Her hand clasped tightly in Charlie’s, her blood or his blood…she didn’t know. Tears obscured her vision as she held his hand tight. His chest rose and fell with faltering, shaky breaths._

_“I’m sorry, Charlie,” she choked out. “I’m so sorry…”_

“I’m so sorry,” the words fell out of her mouth before she could hold them back. There was a sheen of tears in her ears and she drew in sharp breath before she wiped them away. Her brows furrowed, and she shook her head to shake of the last remnants of the memories. She began to rise to her feet only to realize a split second later that she was not alone. Her hand went to her sword, but it was too late. A fine elvish blade pressed against the hollow of her throat, light enough not to cut, but firm enough to make the warning clear. 

“What is this?” A woman’s smooth voice drawled. “A little wanderer who has lost her way?” 

Elizabeth recognized the voice, and the low chuckle that followed. She had the only response that one could in that situation and cursed loudly. 

* * *

The ground was cold and wet, but it was nothing against the tough soles of a Hobbits foot. Bilbo stepped across the roots of trees, and tiptoed around a couple of bushes until he found Kili and Fili standing in front of the horses, whispering furiously to one another. 

Now, Bilbo was no fool. He had grown up with several of his cousins, mostly of the Tookish variety so he knew trouble when he saw it. “What is going on?” He demanded, primly. 

Fili and Kili whirled around. There were twin expressions of shock on their faces before the brothers managed to smooth their faces into something more nonchalant. “Going on?” Fili asked, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. 

“What makes you think that something is going on?” Kili said, with only a faint note of unease in his voice as he leaned against the uprooted tree as if it were nothing. 

Bilbo just looked at them deadpanned. “What kind of fool do you take me for?” He asked, sharply. “What on Yavanna’s green hills are you up to?” 

“Well…” Kili scratched his chin, sheepishly. “We were supposed to be looking out for the ponies.” 

“It is only we’ve encountered a bit of a problem,” Fili said, a waspish sort of grin on his face. “You see we had seventeen horses. But now…” 

“Now we only have fifteen,” Kili stated, with a shrug of his shoulders and a quaking chuckle. “Daisy and Bungo are missing.” 

Bilbo frowned, then craned his neck to peer around the two brother to look at the nervous animals. His eyes flickered from horse to horse until he realized they were indeed right. “Well, that’s not good. That is not good at all,” his voice rose with his panic. “Shouldn’t we go tell Thorin?” 

Fili blanched, while Kili grimaced. “Uhh, no. Let’s not worry him. As our official burglar, we thought you might like to look into it,” Fili said, beaming hopefully at Bilbo. 

Kili nodded, enthusiastically. 

Bilbo blinked, then looked around and saw some trees that had recently uprooted and laying on the ground like a child’s plaything. Something big had been through her. Something big and strong enough to knock trees about. His panic only heightened, and he stuttered, “Well, uh...look, some--something big uprooted these trees.” 

Kili nodded. “That was our thinking.” 

“Something very big, and possibly quite dangerous,” Bilbo cautioned, quietly. Oh, why did Thorin have to piss of the wizard at a time like this? Bilbo gnawed on his bottom lip worriedly. “I think we should…” 

“Something is coming,” Fili grabbed the hobbit from one side while Kili grabbed his by the other and pulled his down behind a big log as the ground beneath them trembled. They peered over the log with wide eyes and watched a horrendous giant like monster march over and pick up two more ponies. 

Bilbo quaked from head to toe. “W-what is that?” He asked, pointing a trembling finger as the monster walked away. 

“Trolls,” Kili and Fili replied. 

“Oh…oh, dear.” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER: MORE TROLLS! And this is where the story will start to venture into a different territory. Hope you will enjoy! :D
> 
>  
> 
> Reference and Language:
> 
>  
> 
> Note: I always thought that Bifur and Bofur were brother, and Bombur their cousin. Upon further research I realized that Bombur and Bofur are brother, and Bifur the cousin. I swore I made this mistake in my writing, but I could not find it. So if you see it please let me know which chapter and I will fix it.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Cast List
> 
>  
> 
> Elizabeth Morgan (Child) -- Mackenzie Foy
> 
>  
> 
> Elizabeth Morgan (Adult) -- Rebecca Herbst
> 
>  
> 
> Thorin Oaken shield -- Richard Armitage
> 
>  
> 
> Charlie Morgan (Elizabeth’s Father) -- Gary Oldman
> 
>  
> 
> Mrs. Morgan (Elizabeth’s Mother) -- Jaime Ray Newman
> 
>  
> 
> Charlie (Dwarf) -- Sir Anthony Sher
> 
>  
> 
> Gandalf -- Ian McKellan
> 
>  
> 
> Bilbo Baggins -- Martin Freeman 
> 
>  
> 
> Ivy Goldchild -- Julie Benz 
> 
>  
> 
> I just realized the actors that I chose to be Elizabeth’s parents last names are a bit funny. One’s Oldman and the other is Newman. lmao
> 
>  
> 
> RRs are appreciated and always answered. :D


	13. Dwarven Recipes for Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elizabeth has unexpected visitors, and the dwarves almost get eaten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by the song ‘Roundtable Rivals’ and ‘Moon Trance’ by Lindsey Sterling. Please go check out Adrian Von Ziegler, Lindsey Sterling, and Peter Hollens on youtube. Their music is worth and I have even subscribed to their page because they are so worth listening to. Each of them are so fantastically talented and I guarantee that everyone will enjoy their original songs as well as the covers they do of popular songs.
> 
> I want to thank, , for commenting! You all are wonderful.
> 
> And I want to thank all those who bookmarked this as well as, ,who all left kudos! THANK YOU!

****

CHAPTER THIRTEEN 

[ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/ch13_zps3qe5me2g.png.html)

****

‘Dwarven Recipes for Disaster’

****

* * *

The camp had been silent since Elizabeth’s departure. Thorin had pulled on his armor, with a dour look on his face. He latched his gauntlet tightly around his forearm before he lifted his gaze to the forest around them. Thorin clenched and unclenched his fists, then shook his head stubbornly. He would go get the woman, force her to come back to camp and then wash his hands of responsibility of her welfare off of his hands. He rose from the log and squared his shoulders, prepared to head back into the woods when Fili burst from the tree line, an expression of pure panic across his face. He took in a deep gulps of air, and as soon as he caught his breath he spat out a single word. 

“Trolls.” 

Alarm flared through Thorin, sudden and with a white hot intensity. “What?” He barked out, his blue eyes widening. “Where is your brother? Where is the hobbit?” He demanded, darkly. _Where was the woman?_ He added, silently in his mind. 

Fili flinched ever so slightly. “I…I left them back there. The trolls…they stole the horses. Bilbo is trying to steal them back,” Fili explained, hesitantly. 

Gut wrenching fear hit him swiftly and without a second to comprehend it. Then Thorin’s face darkened with anger, and he ripped his blade from scabbard as the others shot to their feet. “Blasted hobbit! Is he trying to get himself killed?” Thorin nearly shouted. How could the foolish Halfling be so ignorant? And how could his nephews be so foolish to allow it to happen? 

“Thorin, calm yourself,” Balin told him, sharply. “You will be no good to either of them if you let your anger guide you.” 

Thorin gnashed his teeth together, biting back his anger. His blue eyes pinned Fili to the spot who looked ill with worry. “Lead us to them,” he demanded, darkly. Fili gave wide eyed look with a sharp, single nod before he turned around and led the Company into the woods. 

* * *

“Hoot twice like a barn owl…” The hobbit huffed underneath his breath after he tossed Kili a look over his shoulder and shuffled forward. Bilbo knew this was a bad idea. He just had no idea as to why he even agreed to this, or why he did not explain that he could not hoot like any kind of owl and that he most definitely did not wish to have anything with any kind of Trolls, thank you very much. 

He crept along silently, and managed to get up to the pen in which they held the horse trapped. He was happy to note that the mutton they were cooking didn’t appear to be any of the Company’s horses. _At least, not yet,_ Bilbo reminded himself with a grimace. He grabbed the rope that held the poorly crafted fence together and hoped to pull it apart. However, despite appearances the knot was done tight and held against the pushing and pulling of his fingers. He ducked down when one of the Troll whirled around, his heart hammering in his chest. 

“Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don’t look like mutton again tomorrer,” griped one of the trolls, as he stomped around the fire with a grimace on his nasty face. 

“Never a blinking bit of manflesh have we had for long enough,” said a second. “Besides the farmer and his wifeses. The chi’dren barely made a mouthful. Don’ know ‘hy you thought to settle h‘re, William.” 

Bile rose up in Bilbo’s throat, and his mind went back to the farmhouse that sat in ruins. _Those poor people! Those poor children! How horrible,_ he thought though the thought did not do justice how sick he felt in that moment. Bilbo drew in a deep breath before he peeked around the backside of the pen, and his eyes widened when he saw a knife hanging off the belt of the Troll. It was large, large enough to be more than a great sword to a hobbit, but Bilbo had confidence that if he could get it, he could use it to at least cut the rope. Then he could run to safety, he thought slowly moving forward. 

William, the Troll, huffed and sneered. “Yer can’t expect folk to stop here for ever just to be eat up by you and Bert, now can you?” 

What was he doing? Trying to prove himself? And to whom? He gnawed worriedly on his lower lip as he crept closer to the Troll’s knife while holding back a gag. Trolls _reeked._ It was a smell so terrible that Bilbo had a feeling it would haunt him for years to come, and he reached out to grab the knife when everything quickly dissolved into chaos and somehow he ended up in the Troll’s handkerchief (oh, how he felt the irony of that) covered in Troll boogies. Disgust and fear rippled through him like a tangible force, and he stared up at the Troll with one thought rushing through his mind. _Oh, dear,_ he thought 

He wished himself a hundred miles away, but wishes seldom if ever came true, and he stayed just where he was in the Troll’s hand. 

“They’ll never see you,” Kili had said. 

“We’ll be right behind you,” Fili had said. 

If Bilbo somehow got out of this he would box their ears like there was no tomorrow. “Argh!!! Blimey! Bert! Bert!” The Troll positively squealed with a look of glee and awe on his face that made Bilbo quiver from his head to his toes. “Look what’s come out of me ‘ooter! It’s got arms and legs and everything.” 

The other two trolls gathered around to take a look. Bert frowned, his face scrunched up. “What is it?” 

“I don’t know, but I don’t like the way it wriggles around!” Tom shouted, and William shook Bilbo, covered in snot, off the napkin and onto the ground. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he scrambled to them and twisted around to face all the trolls. 

“What are you then? An oversized squirrel?” Tom asked. 

“I’m a burglar--uh, Hobbit,” Bilbo sputtered. 

“A burglahobbit?” William squeaked. 

“Can we cook `im?” Bert asked, gleefully. 

“We can try!” William shouted, and reached out to get Bilbo. Bilbo dodged out of the way then backed up when he was cornered by Bert. 

“He wouldn’t make more than a mouthful, not when he’s skinned and boned!” Bert pointed a finger at the Hobbit. 

“Perhaps there’s more Burglahobbits around these parts,” Tom suggested, with a malicious edge to his grin as he drooled for something other than mutton. “Might be enough for a pie!” 

“Grab him!” 

“It’s too quick!” 

Bilbo gave them chase, and dodged them for as long as he could with his heart feeling as if it would beat right out of his chest when a meaty hand clasped down upon his leg. He found him hanging upside down in the air, and coming closer to the a Troll’s face than he had ever wanted to. “Gotcha! Are there any more of you little fellas `iding where you shouldn’t?” 

“Nope!” Bilbo said, quickly. 

“He’s lying,” William accused. 

“No!” Bilbo shook his head. “I’m not!” 

“Hold his toes over the fire. Make him squeal!” William ordered, then he let out a monstrous howl and fell down to the ground hard holding his bleeding leg. Bilbo’s eyes widened as he saw Kili standing there, his sword drawn and a cocky smirk on his face. There was a fierceness in his eyes that made him look more like his uncle than Bilbo had ever noticed before. 

“Drop him,” Kili demanded, heatedly. 

“You what?” One Troll stuttered. 

“I said, drop him,” Kili said, through his teeth. His brown eyes were unflinching. At least, until Tom threw Bilbo straight at him. The two both fell hard to the ground, and then the Company burst out of the bushes with battle cries upon their lips. The Trolls yelped as the weapons slashed at their feet for the dwarves fought like they were mad, with battle cries and filled with a determination to bring the monsters down. Bilbo rolled off of Kili and looked up to see the Troll’s knife lying on the ground. 

He pushed himself to his feet and rushed over towards the ponies. He sawed through the rope as quickly as he could, spurred on by the noise of fighting behind him. The ropes came free, and the horses bolted at the first sign of freedom. He dropped the knife, intent on making his own kind of escape when he felt him, yet again, snatched up by a Troll. He feels his limbs being held out like he was about to be quartered. 

“Bilbo!” Kili shouted. 

The dwarves all halted in their fighting when Tom the Troll shouted, “Lay down your arms, or we’ll rip his off!” 

Thorin halted, vexation and frustration on his face as he stared up at the Halfling with a grudging glare and all the Company held their breath waiting to see what their leader would do. Bilbo swallowed thickly, for a moment certain this would be the end of his journey. Then Thorin plants his sword in the ground and took a step back. The other dwarves slowly drop their sword and weapons as well. 

* * *

For several seconds after the curse passed her lips, the only noise was the faint trill of the wind through the tree branches up above. Elizabeth stood there a split second, before she shoved the blade away from her throat. She flinched slightly when the blade nicked her skin, and she reached up to wipe away the spec of blood that welled up on the hollow of her neck. 

Shocked. Bemused. Irritated. 

These were just a few of the emotions that slashed through Elizabeth as she rose to her feet and faced the pair of them. The man stood with broad shoulders, and draped in cloth of a Ranger. His face was sharpness and angled and his grey steel eyes held the sharpness of hunter. The woman beside him in silvery blue was nothing less than ethereal with her long raven locks that hung around her heart shaped face. Two pointy ears peeked out from underneath her hair, the unmistakable sign that she was an elf. Her skin was as white as the untouched snow and lips as red as a rose. Her blue eyes were knowing, yet mirthful with an ageless youth. Elizabeth stared at the pair for a moment of silence before another curse slip through her lips too fast for her fingers to hold it back though she did try. 

The raven haired beauty let out a bell like laugh of pure amusement while the man only grinned. Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed upon both of them, and she now knew why she had that foreboding sensation since the Company left Bree. _It was because of these two,_ Elizabeth thought with a rueful expression on her face. “Arwen…Estel…” she spoken their names softly still in half disbelief that they stood in front of her. To see the two people that she consider her brother and sister in all, but blood standing before her after so many years apart felt like an arrow to her heart. 

_“An lema?”_ The Ranger asked, his voice smooth and nonchalant as if this meeting had been by chance and was not at all suspicions in the slightest. _Long journey?_

Elizabeth gave him a dry look filled with frustration. _“Mani naa lle umien?”_ She dodged the question posed to her with one of her own. _“Mankoi naa lle sinome?” What are you doing? Why are you here?_ Her voice however was far from the nonchalant tone he spoke with. Her voice held a sharpness, and demanded answers. 

_“Mankoi lle irma sint?”_ Arwen countered, her eyebrow arched in such a fashion that it would have made her father proud. _Why do you want to know?_

_“Maybe I wish to know because it is clear the two of you have been following me since Bree,”_ Elizabeth hissed out underneath her breath. She was not a simpleton who could not put the puzzle together when all the pieces were clear before her to see. _“Mankoi?” Why?_

_“Andelu i ven. Merin le telim.”_ Estel stated, seriously. So different from the last time she saw him. A young man with aspirations of joining the Rangers. She had heard much about him since, that he rose through the Ranks and under the guise of Strider. _The road is dangerous. I’m glad we came to you._

_“We were concerned,”_ Arwen whispered, softly. 

Elizabeth clenched and unclenched her hands. There were warring emotions in her chest, and she tried to gather them the best she could before she addressed them once more. _“The road is always dangerous, and I have faced it many times before. There is no need for such concern or skulking about in the shadows,”_ Elizabeth stared at the pair with more exasperation than frustration. She ran her hands across her neck, and pinned Arwen with a thoughtful look. “Aren’t you supposed be on the road to Lothlórien? You always visit Lady Galadriel during this season.” 

“We did not mean, as you put it, to skulk in the shadows. However we weren’t sure our presences would be…tolerated by the _spongier_ ,” Arwen commented, hesitantly. “As for Lothlórien…I’ve decided to pursue other ventures.” She shared a look with Estel out of the corner of her eye, and then glanced away with a slight blush staining her cheeks. 

Elizabeth frowned, her eyes flickered from Estel to Arwen then back to Estel when a snort of laughter worked up her throat. Despite her annoyance towards the pair, she could not fight the half smirk that split her face. “Oh…oh,” she chuckled, with a shake of her head. “I assume that Elrond does not know about…” she wiggled her fingers at the two of them, enjoying the discomfort clear on their faces, “this little venture?” 

“Do not look so smug. He is not pleased with you either,” Estel shot her a look. “Or have you forgotten how you stole out of Rivendell like a thief in the night and haven’t been back in…how many years has it been?” He stated, with an aloofness to his voice. 

_“Dôl gîn lost!”_ Elizabeth snapped, visibly stricken by his words. They were true. She had stole away from Rivendell in the middle of night, and without a word. She could only imagine what happened when the daylight broke and they found her bed empty. With no word afterwards for nearly seven years, Elizabeth had stayed away from Rivendell and had no contact with them since. If it did come down to who Elrond would be more displeased with, Elizabeth could not say for certain who would win the ‘pleasure’ of that prize. She had a feeling though she would find out. 

“Peace,” Arwen stepped between them, always the voice of reason. She gave them both sharp, reprimanding looks. “This is no way to be to each others. Elizabeth, we did not mean to be so underhanded. We just wanted to see you. It has been a long time, Aldanniel.” 

Elizabeth huffed, slightly. Her eyes downcast before she brought them back up, and she ran her fingers through her tangled hair. “It…was not my intention to part ways for such a long time,” Elizabeth admitted, softly. “These last few years have passed so quickly, I have barely had time to acknowledge them and…I did not mean to stay away for so long. I truly did not.” 

“I believe you,” Arwen stated, with a sympathetic smile. _“He worries for you. All of us have worried for you. To disappear and journey is within your nature, but to disappear without a word for so many years…we began to fear the worst.”_

Guilt lanced through her heart, Elizabeth had to glance away from them in order to recompose herself. It felt like she was tearing at the seams, and her control was slipping through her fingers. Sometimes her emotions, the ones she bottled up so tightly, would get the best of her and she had a feeling tonight might be one of those times. She drew in ragged breath, and opened her mouth when a scream echoed through the night. Her head shot up as panic shot through her blood spurred onward by a heavy jolt of adrenaline. “Bilbo,” she breathed out, recognizing the hobbit’s scream. 

All her senses sharpened and honed in on where the scream came from. Then she was moving, sprinting through the forest without a second thought spared on Estel and Arwen. She had no doubt if she looked back she would see the pair on her heels. She ducked under branches and leap over roots before she slowed when she saw a light gleaming through the trees. Bending her knees, she shuffled forward silently across the forest floor and her hand upon her blade. She reached out with a steady hand and slowly pushed branch down carefully to peer at the clearing when she nearly jumped backwards. 

A troll! An actually troll stomped past where she hid with all the force of an earthquake and Elizabeth gaped in complete shock. Then her heart jumped in her throat. All the dwarves had been striped of their armor, and half were tied up in large sacks while the other half roasted like chestnuts upon the open flame. She could hear Bofur’s dulcet tones screaming, “Hot! Hot! That’s gonna burn!” Her hand gripped tightly on her blade, and she startled when a hand came down upon her shoulders. She craned her head to peer over her shoulder at Estel who looked at with concern in his gaze. 

“Trolls,” she mouthed at the Ranger. She then held up three fingers and gestured beyond the bushes. Estel leaned forward on his haunches to peer through the leaves with a high level of alarm written on his face and hand on his sword. 

“Trolls? This far down from the mountain?” Arwen frowned, something troubling in her blue eyes gaze. “That has not happened in a long time, not since…” Arwen trailed off, worriedly. 

“They must have a cave nearby,” Estel murmured, quietly. He pulled back from the bushes, and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “They cannot travel by day, and the mountains are more than a forthnight’s journey from here.” 

“We will ponder caves later,” Elizabeth shook her head. “For now, something has to be done.” 

“You have a plan?” Estel arched a brow. 

“Not exactly,” Elizabeth admitted, with a mixture of sheepishness and worry on her face. “More like half of one…” 

“Are you going to share, or keep us in suspense?” Arwen said, with a sly kind of smile upon her graceful features. 

Elizabeth gave a wan smile in reply. 

* * *

The dwarves fought hard like they were mad, which made the surrender all that more bitter. So they shouted and raged as loud as they could, but the Trolls did not pay them a bit of mind as they fought over the preparations. “Don’t know why we bothered cooking them. Let’s just sit on them and squash them into jelly,” William suggested, . 

“Nah! They should be sautéed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage,” Bert countered, gesturing towards the dwarves. 

“Is this really necessary?” Dori asked, not really caring to hear about ways they could be cooked. 

“Ooh, that does sound quite nice,” William agreed. 

Oin looked thunderous. “Untie us, you monsters!” 

“Take on someone your own size!” Gloin shouted at the top of his lungs. 

“Never mind the seasoning; we ain’t got all night! Dawn ain’t far away, so let’s get a move on. I don’t fancy being turned to stone,” Tom growled out. 

Bilbo felt uncomfortable being separated a foot or two from the pile of dwarves, after all safety in numbers though in this situation that probably didn’t matter. It would have made him feel better, at least for a little bit. He jolted when a hand came out of the bushes and landed on his shoulder. “Be still, Bilbo,” Elizabeth’s voice came from the shadows. “It is just I.” 

“Elizabeth…” Bilbo breathed, relieved. 

“Distract them, Bilbo,” Elizabeth urged, quietly. “I will try to find a way to bring them down then you try to untie the others, if you can without bringing too much attention to yourself. If you cannot, then stay put and let us handle it.” 

“Us?” Bilbo asked, out of the corner of his mouth. He felt the tie around his neck loosen, not enough for the sack to fall off of him completely, but enough that if he so chose to he could get free. He felt Elizabeth pulled away from him, and he swallowed thickly. “Wait!” Bilbo shimmed to his feet and hoped towards the fire while straining to keep the bag from falling off his body. “You are making a terrible mistake.” 

“You can’t reason with them, they’re half-wits!” Dori shouted at Bilbo as the spit turned. 

“Half-wits that caught us,” Bofur scoffed, sweat dripping down his face as he was quite literally being roasted alive. “What does that make us?” 

Bilbo rolled his eyes before he faced the Trolls. “The seasoning!” The hobbit nearly shouted. 

“What about the seasoning?” Bert demanded. 

“Well have you smelt them?” Bilbo looked at them, incredulously. “You’re going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up. I can help you there. I am a good cook myself, and I know the secrets of cooking a dwarf, if you see what I mean.” 

“Traitor!” 

“You wretched Halfling!” 

“What until I get my hands on you!” 

Bilbo barely concealed a sigh, and wondered if it was worth the trouble of saving them. The Troll called William leaned forward, and peered down at the hobbit thoughtfully. “What do you know about cooking dwarf?” 

“Shut up, and let the, uh, flurgaburburrahobbit talk!” Bert poked William in the side with his great soup ladle that had been fashioned out of tree bark. 

“Uh, the secret to cooking dwarf is, um--” Bilbo fumbled for a moment. 

“Yes? Come on,” Bert prompted. “Tell us the secret.” 

“Ye--yes, I’m telling you, the secret is … to skin them first!” Bilbo said, with a vigorous nod. 

Up on the hill, Elizabeth had to press her knuckles against her mouth to keep back a hysterical laugh that threatened to slip free. Honestly of all the things to think of, she thought with a shake of her head before she returned to her task. She peered down the hill at the Trolls and she glanced over at Estel who was at her side. “Dimwitted they may be,” Elizabeth whispered, “but they will not be distracted forever.” 

“Try to have patience,” Estel told her, his voice low. “We can not risk battling them outright. The odds would not be on our side, even if the hobbit manages to get a dwarf or two free.” He twisted to look at Arwen who had her bow in hand and arrow drawn loosely. “I think it would be best if you stayed to the shadows, Arwen.” 

[ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/tumblr_mgoqkdSAZj1s33ck2o1_500_zpszenuvsif.gif.html)

Arwen looked at him, her eyes blazing and a retort on her lips when he held up a patient hand. “I mean no insult to your battle prowess, but out of all of us, you are the better archer,” Estel explained, patiently. 

“He is right,” Elizabeth agreed, with a slight nod. “It would do us much good to have you guarding us from afar. That and the dwarves aren’t exactly elf friendly, if you know what I mean.” 

Arwen relaxed, but only slightly. “Very well,” she agreed, stiffly and with a cool glance in Estel’s direction. “But it does not mean I like it.” 

“And I do not like waiting,” Elizabeth grumbled, underneath her breath. 

“Tom, get me the filleting knife,” William ordered. 

“If I get you, you little--” Gloin struggled to get free. 

“I won’t forget that!” Dwalin roared. 

Bilbo winced and hoped that all would be smoothed over once this was all said and done. Tom shook his head and placed his hands upon his hips. “What a load of rubbish! I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on. Scuff them, I say, boots and all.” 

“`e’s right! Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf! Nice and crunchy,” William said, and grabbed Bombur who shouted, helplessly in the sack. 

Elizabeth felt her heart hammer with alarm. Estel reached out to catch her arm, and the Ranger held on tight with a bruising grip. “Do not be foolhardily, Aldanniel,” the Ranger warned her, darkly. “We can not match them in strength. We have to be smart about this, and that does not mean rushing in where everyone else fears to tread like you are prone to do.” 

Elizabeth gave him a dark glare, her jaw clenched tightly as she watched the Troll lift Bombur towards his mouth. Her eyes were wide and her breath caught in her throat when Bilbo shouted. “No! Not--not that one, he--he’s infected!” 

“You what?” Tom blinked. 

“Yeah, He’s got worms in his … tubes,” Bilbo explained, lamely. William made a noise of disgust and dropped Bombur back into the pile of Dwarves. “In--in fact they all have, they’re in--infested with parasites. It’s a terrible business; I wouldn’t risk it, I really wouldn’t.” 

[ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/tumblr_mcirs3jPNL1re3c2eo2_500_zpsfwz93um7.gif.html)

“Parasites, did he say parasites?” Oin looked startled, for he was the trained healer of the group so he should have known if anyone was carrying any kind of parasites before hand. 

“We don’t have parasites!” Kili said, offended. “You have parasites!” 

“What are you talking about, laddie?” Gloin asked, confused. Bilbo gave aggravated sighed, and rolled his eyes with a baleful twist of his lips. 

“Dwarves,” Elizabeth huffed out. 

Thorin narrowed his eyes upon the Halfling, the cogs inside his mind furiously at work as the outrage simmered down into a sudden understanding. He kicked the others and gave them a sharp pointed looked that conveyed a thousand words and what would happen if they did not quickly fall in line. Suddenly, the shouted of denial quickly change to proclamations about how they were riddled with parasites. 

“I’ve got parasites as big as my arm!” Oin shouted. 

“Mine are the biggest parasites, I’ve got huge parasites!” Kili called out, as loud as he could. 

“We’re riddled.” 

“Yes, I’m riddled,” Ori said, nodding enthusiastically.. 

“Yes we are. Badly!” Dori nodded. 

“What would you have us do, then, let ‘em all go?” Tom demanded, glaring down at the hobbit with a nasty sneer upon her face. 

“Well...” Bilbo began, fighting a grin. 

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to? This little ferret is taking us for fools!” Tom pointed an accusing finger at Bilbo, and stomped forward. 

“Ferret?” Bilbo stumbled over his words and his feet, offended. 

“Fools?” Bert looked perplexed. 

Then when the situation was already out of control, a singing voice came out of the forest: 

_I am a jovial ranger,_

_I fear no kind of danger,_

_To sorrow I’m a stranger,_

_And so let mirth abound._

The entire clearing fell silent and the Trolls looked at each other. “What was that?” Tom demanded. 

“I’s don’t know! Whys you looking at me for?” Bert asked, his eyes darting around widely as if something was going to jump out and get him. 

Hidden in the brush, Elizabeth bit her lip hard for a long moment to reign in a chuckle before she twisted and arched a brow at the Ranger. “Yes, Estel,” she drawled, with dry amusement. “What was that?” 

“A new distraction,” Estel commented, the faintest of color rose upon his cheeks as he narrowed a glare at her. Elizabeth snorted lightly, but quirked her lips up and sung the next lines of the song: 

_I once had a fit of loving,_

_But, that contrary proving,_

_It set my mind a-roving_

_To travel the country round!_

Bilbo perked up. He knew that singing voice, untrained and soft. It was Elizabeth! He barely restrained the grin that threatened to spill across his face, and he bit the inside of his cheek as his heart thundered beneath his chest. Estel and Elizabeth scurried when the Trolls whirled around on their hiding place and a great hand slammed through the trees and shrubbery. Elizabeth let out a deep breath, and saw the dawn peeking through the treeline. “Dawn approaches, but not swift enough. We need to keep them distracted for a bit longer,” Elizabeth told him, in hushed tones. “But distractions will not last forever.” 

“I know,” Estel admitted, with a weighty sigh. “We will have to fight. We have to be careful about it, Aldanniel.” 

“I’m always careful,” Elizabeth said. 

“You are anything but,” Arwen commented, as she dashed past them and climbed nimbly up a nearby tree to get a better vantage point on the Trolls. Elizabeth took a higher path while Estel carefully made his way down the hill, hoping that splitting up would cause the Trolls even more confusion. 

“Oh, it’s the great Forest Spirits, that is!” Bilbo had a burst of imagination. “Yes, the Forest Spirits. You are in right trouble now with them running about.” 

“Forest what?” Bert asked. 

“Don’t listen to him! He’s been having us on since the beginning,” Tom snarled, jabbing Bilbo with a finger so hard it sent the hobbit on his backside. 

“I wanna listen to him!” Bert shoved Tom back. “Speak up, little burrahobbit!” 

“Uh…well,” the Hobbit stuttered, but only for a moment. “How can you have not heard of the great Forest Spirits?” Bilbo pretended to be miffed, and he did quite a good job if he said some himself. He could see the light of dawn just peeking over the trees, and he knew that he had to keep them busy a little while longer. “They lurk in the shadows, swim within the mist! They live and move within every rock and tree! They cause great mischief, changing things about and mucking things up.” 

“What d’es that mean?” Tom looked confused. 

“It means that bad things are afoot. Yes, indeed,” Bilbo nodded, vigorously. “They can turn the sunniest days into the blackest of nights. They can change a butterfly into a bee, a tree into a snake, and they can take something the size of mountains and shrink it down to the size of a molehill--” 

“I don’t want to be a molehill!” Bert cried out. 

“He’s having us on again!” William snapped, though he did cast a fearful around the forest around them. A high pitched whistle echoed through the trees ominously and the Trolls did indeed quiver a touch with fear. “What was that?” William huddled closer to Tom. 

“Ah!” Bert screamed. 

“What’s the matter with you?” William snapped, startled. 

“Something bit me,” Bert whimpered. 

“Ah, something got me, too!” Tom shouted. 

William looked at both of them before he felt a sting in his arm, and he grasped the offending object and pulled it free from his skin. “Some one,” William said, staring at the tiny arrow in his hand, “is shooting arrows at me back!” His eyes narrowed on the tree and he caught a flash of movement. He started to rush forward with a roar, but Elizabeth was not about to let him anywhere near Arwen. She ran up the boulder and leapt forward and landed on right on the Troll’s shoulder, grasping his ear to keep her balance. 

“What?” William yelped in shock. “What is on me shoulder?” He twisted his head around and Elizabeth stabbed his straight in the eye. William hollered in pain, and Elizabeth jumped off his shoulder rolling on the ground when Bert tried to grab her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Estel too had come out of hiding and put his sword right through Tom’s foot before he dodged a hit that would have sent him sailing across the clearing. From somewhere deep in the forest, arrows came out from the trees and slammed into Bert’s back making him squeal in pain and fright. 

“Elizabeth!” Kili shouted, in shock. 

“Lassie!” 

“You came back!” 

“Hey, who is that?” Oin pointed at Estel. 

“Like I’d leave you all behind,” Elizabeth huffed out, her voice ragged with emotion and exertion. The Trolls were swifter than they looked, and it was hard not to get stepped on in some way or another. 

Thorin watched, his mouth parted slightly in shock. She was more fierce than fire, with a will as strong as his own. She moved with the agility and grace of an elf, but fought with the strength and heart of a dwarf. She was like poetry in motion, her movements a deadly dance. It was easy to forget how human she was in that moment, that was until Bilbo shouted for her to look out. Elizabeth hesitated, her attention stolen away and William scooped her up, like she was little more than a rag doll and slung her against a nearby tree so hard that it cracked the tree. Too hard because she slumped bonelessly in the trolls grip, the pain that lashed through her body almost too much to bear. It felt as if her entire body splintered into a million pieces, and all she was in that moment was pain. 

Kili let out a shout of panic, while Fili sent several unflattering curses at the trolls. Dwalin positively roared, and Bilbo shouted, “Put her down! Put her down right now!” 

William tossed her straight into the pile of dwarves, and she landed sprawled out upon Thorin. His blue eyes looked down at her, her face buried into his stomach and she was so still for a moment he thought her dead. A feeling of dread clawed at his chest, and then she moved, slowly and gingerly. “Everyone alright?” Elizabeth groaned, her throat convulsing as she fought the urge to throw up right there on whoever she was lying on. Pain throbbed through her skull, and she felt something warm trickling down through her hair. 

“Oh, yes, we are having the time of our lives,” said Fili, with a growl of aggravation. His voice was muffled for Ori was lying on top of him. 

“Until we get eaten,” Kili huffed. 

“Silence!” Thorin commanded, darkly. 

Elizabeth jolted because when Thorin spoke, the body underneath her rumbled. _Oh…you have to be kidding me! Of all the dwarves I could be laying on,_ she thought, and shifted with great care until she lying on her side. Her chest heaved with the effort, and she collapsed with her cheek pressed against his chest. For a moment, all she could do was lie there and breath, finally she gained the strength to crack her eyes open. A piercing blue gaze greeted her, and she let out a pitiful moan when she took in all of her surroundings. She could hear Dwalin, and a few others complain as they were being tied up to be roasted apparently if she was hearing the trolls right. And she had a feeling that her hearing was right. 

“This…is uh, bad,” Elizabeth croaked out, a bead of something warm running down her forehead. Thorin’s eyes locked onto it, tracing the line of ruby red that ran down the side of her face from temple to chin and she watched his nostrils flare while his body coiled tightly beneath her. He was like a forge, radiating from within and it was soothing despite the circumstances. “I mean…I’ve been in worse, but uh,” she shifted, trying to work her limbs, but they felt as if all the energy had been zapped right out from them, “this is definitely going to be one of the more memorable ones.” 

Thorin quirked an eyebrow. 

“Unless we don’t make it out,” she coughed, her tongue darting out to lick her parched lips. Her eyes darted around the clearing and she hoped that distraction got underway quickly or they would be a meal before dawn. 

“Do you ever stop talking?” Thorin questioned. It was hard for him to make the distinction between awe or exasperation in that moment as he stared down at her. Most likely something in between. 

“Nope. Not even in my sleep,” Elizabeth said, with a false grin that looked more like a wince instead. Her false grin faded into a pain stricken expression and she tried to sit up. “Es…Strider,” she tried to look around. “Where did Strider go?” She did not see him. He must have slipped back into the forest in an effort to regroup and come up with a different strategy. Elizabeth closed her eyes, with a heavy breath. She had been foolish. It had been a most foolhardy decision to leap into the fray like that. 

“The man?” Thorin inquired, brows furrowed. He recognized the stranger as the one that had watched them in Bree, and he felt suspicion crawl through his mind like a living thing. “I know not.” 

“Then all is not lost,” Elizabeth breathed out. She closed her eyes, and tried to summon up the strength to get up, but it felt as if the world around her wobbled and she couldn’t find her balance. 

“Where is the other one? Where is the other one?” Bert screamed, dancing around trying to get arrows out of his back. William growled, and ripped the arrows out and Bert let out wail like a dying cat. 

“Shut up! Don’t worry about no others! Let’s eat these ones and be done with it! Dawn is approaching!” Tom nearly shouted. 

“I say we take the green one,” William pointed a vicious finger at Elizabeth, “and make jelly out of ‘er!” 

“Not her! She barely be a mouthful of jelly!” A voice that sounded like Tom’s said, but Tom’s mouth did not move. For a moment, Elizabeth thought it was the blow to the head then realization crept through her and her mouth parted in a circle as a gush of relief passed through them. _It was Estel! It had to be,_ she thought, her hand pressed against Thorin’s chest to steady her as she fought to sit up. 

“Well, not her. Who shall we sit on first?” Bert asked. 

“Better sit on the last fellow first,” said William, whose eye had been damaged by Elizabeth. He thought Tom was talking. 

“Don’t talk to yerself!” said Tom. 

“I wasn’t talking to myself!” William said. 

“Then whos was yer talking to?” Bert demanded. 

“Be silent,” Gandalf appeared on top of the great boulder as if he had been waiting all along with the dawn glimmering majestically behind him. “And be stone!” 

“It’s a Forest Spirit!” Bert hollered. 

“Can we eat it?” Tom asked. 

“The dawn shall take you!” Gandalf cracked his staff asked the boulder and it fell apart letting the sunrays shine right onto the Trolls. The Trolls screamed, as their skin sizzled and hissed before they became that of stone. Silence descended upon the clearing, for everyone seemed in disbelief that it was all over. Then the dwarves all began to cheer, loudly. Except the ones on the spit. 

Dwalin wiggled against the ropes with a disgruntled look upon his face. “A little help?” He asked, gruffly. 

“Allow me, Mister Dwarf.” 

Dwalin blinked, and jerked back in surprise at seeing Strider standing there. “Who is that? Who is he?” Dwalin demanded, thunderously. Due to being tied to the spit, Dwalin had not seen Strider nor the way he had helped therefore had no inclination to trust him at all. Not that the dwarves who had seen the Ranger aid them were inclined to trust him either, but they would at least give them benefit of doubt. 

Elizabeth noted that he was by himself. It was probably for the best that Arwen did not show herself, if the hostile looks sent at Strider were anything to go by. The elf woman would find no hospitality from the dwarves, though she would bear it with grace for Arwen held no prejudices against their race. “My brother,” Elizabeth croaked out, and all protests when Strider pulled out a dagger to cut through their binds fell silent. Strider shot her a glance, with an eyebrow arched. 

She could feel the weight of the stares heavy upon, Thorin’s weighed the most of them all and she turned to look straight at him. “He is Strider,” she announced, her voice quiet, but loud against the silence. Thorin looked at her, a searching soulful glance as he head tilted to the side and then his eyes flickered beyond her to the man called Strider. Whatever he found made him frown deeply, and not for the first time Elizabeth couldn’t help, but to wonder what was going on inside of his mind. Her expression softened, even though she did not know it. “And he is my brother.” 

Thorin made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, and she looked up back at Strider to see him giving her a strange look, one mingled with surprise and thoughtfulness before he turned and continued the task of helping the dwarves of the cooking spit while Gandalf with a wave of his hands extinguished the flames. The dawn breaking over the horizon had never been met with such relief as it was today. 

“Oi! I’m still tied up!” 

Or perhaps not. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It does feel an abrupt cut off, doesn’t it? But never fear! The next chapter will pick up right when this one left on, and we will get into Troll Caves, Orc Packs and more! :D
> 
> Rrs are appreciated. :D


	14. Flee Into the Valley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all my little lovelies! I want to thank everyone for the kudos, and comments, and bookmarks! You all so wonderful and I am glad that you are enjoying the story so much. I hope that you will continue to enjoy it. Up in the next chapter will be the timeline with all the events marked on it (cannon and otherwise), also the One Ring will be dealt with so have no fear for an open ending kind of thing. All will be resolved.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN 

[](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/ch14hob_zpsyky7d2lz.png.html)

"Flee Into the Valley" 

* * *

The breaking day came with relief. 

The dwarves went about putting on their armor and gathering their weapons while Elizabeth rested against a nearby tree with her eyes shut. Her body throbbed and ache with a fierceness that she had not felt in a long time, though there were only a few times that she had been so wounded that it could be compared to be slung into a tree by a Troll. A shadow fell over her, even with her eyes closed she could tell the difference in light. 

"Falling asleep would not be wise," Estel stated, his voice held a firm warning. "You took quite the blow to the head. You are lucky to be alive at all." 

Elizabeth did not comment on her luck, though she could not deny that she was indeed lucky. There had been many times luck had been on her side. "I am not asleep, nor am I falling that way. I ache too much to slip into such a peaceful state now," Elizabeth commented, her voice slightly hoarse. "Besides, we will be on our feet soon enough and back on the road. You do not have to worry about my slipping into a slumber and never to awake again." 

"Hmmm." Estel made a noise. Not one of agreement, nor a noise that exactly sounded like he put faith into Elizabeth's words, but one that indicated he would let that matter lie for now. "Why have you chosen to champion them?" Estel's voice came from beside her and she could hear the shifting of grass as he knelt down on his haunches to wait for a reply. 

"Champion who?" Elizabeth frowned, eyes still shut. 

"The dwarves." 

For a long moment, she considered pretending to be asleep. However, Strider would see right through it and probably would tap the side of her head right where her wound was as retaliation. He was always good at being annoying when he wanted to be, and though the years had come and gone, Elizabeth had feeling that he hadn't grown out of that. "Does there have to be a reason?" Elizabeth countered, evasively. "Perhaps I was in a fit of boredom and merely wanted an adventure." 

"Do not take me for a fool nor try to make light of everything. You do not chose to do things idly, Aldanniel," Strider commented, his eyes raked over each individual of the Company. They were a strange bunch as far as dwarves go, and he was trying to see what inspired Elizabeth to follow them so. It was rare that she would chose a single companion to journey with, and now she had chose thirteen not counting the wizard and the hobbit. "You always have a reason for the things that you do. I merely wish to know what reason you have for following this King in Exile." 

Elizabeth opened her eyes, just slightly so she could peer up at the Ranger who was staring down at her, inquisitively. It appeared not even being wounded would see her way out of this conversation, so she gingerly sat up and heaved a sigh. "Because I understand them," Elizabeth stated, quietly. "I understand them in ways even they know not. That is why I chose this path. That is why I need to go on this journey. That is my reason." 

Estel said nothing for a long moment before he inclined his head ever so slightly. "It is a good one," he murmured, genially. "I just hope that your faith in them is not misplaced." 

"I don't believe it is," Elizabeth commented, with a half smile. "And I daresay there is no way you can convince me otherwise." 

"No. No, there isn't," Estel smiled, patting her knee gently. "I know that once you've set your mind to something there is little that can stop you. If you will excuse me for a moment," he rose to his feet. "I need to go check on Arwen. Make sure that she is well." Elizabeth nodded. She knew that Arwen was probably pacing the forest floor, gnawing at the bit with worry. Elizabeth gave a slightly laugh before she turned her head and found herself staring past the Company to Thorin who stood in front of his nephews with a cross expression on his face. She studied him for a long, hard moment and sighed. "I really do hope you are worth it," she huffed out, then got comfortable against the tree once more and closed her eyes. The sunlight was making her migraine worse. 

* * *

Thorin was as proud as he was cantankerous with such anger within him and a mighty burden upon his soul. Life had hardened in him in ways only few could understand, sometimes even his own people could not understand though they came closer than any outsider ever could. He had dreamed of his home often, a dream he for years upon years thought only a false hope never to be reconciled. Then Gandalf came to him, a wizard that promised aid and handed him the key to his Kingdom reignited the flames of hope that had dimmed down to simmering cinder in his chest. Though even now, there were walls built up so high and so impenetrable that the thought of accepting help from outside his kind still was a bitter pill to swallow. Thorin stared at Elizabeth and her brother, Strider (a strange fellow if Thorin ever saw one and a Ranger, if he was not mistaken) for a brief second before he pinned a glare upon his nephews. 

"Your mother did not give her blessing for me to take you on this journey even when I promised her that if you came along that I would bring you back. I told her that you were two of the best and capable warriors that I have ever had the pleasure of teaching. That you were old enough and wise enough to come on this journey and that bringing you along was not a folly," Thorin spoke, his voice deep and his angry gaze bore into his two nephews who found the ground more interesting than staring up at their uncle. "Perhaps I have made a grave error in my judgment of the both of you," he stated, thoughtfully. 

"No," Fili said, his head jerking up. His blue eyes wide and earnest. Kili shook his head in agreement with his brother, and his jaw was set tight with a mixture of fear and determination. 

"Then I expect better out of the two of you," Thorin stated, callously. Perhaps he had been too lenient with both of them so far. He had been a father figure to them since they were little more than babes, for their father had been slain in battle. A battle where he had fought alongside of Thorin. He knew they looked up to him, that they tried to at times emulate him and though as much as he tried…he could not play the hand of the father. Especially not now, not on this journey. He could be their leader. He could be their king. But he could not be an uncle or surrogate father. "I cannot be there always when you make a foolish choice, and I cannot guide you through this as an uncle. I am your leader, and your king. I have to be able trust in you and your decisions. Last night, you made a poor one and while the blame is not solely upon your shoulders, I expect better from now on or I will send you back to the Blue Mountains. Is that _clear_?" 

"Yes, sir," Fili and Kili stated. 

He held their steady gazes for a long moment before he nodded satisfied with what he saw in their expressions. "Good. Now, go," Thorin ordered, gruffly. "Get your things together. We head out soon." 

He watched them trudge off, a heavy weight of dishearten lingered upon their shoulders and if it had been a different time, he could play a different role and do something to soothe his nephews hurt prides. As it were, he simply could not. He spotted the hobbit at the wizard's side, and was vaguely surprised. The hobbit had fussed and been his usual bothersome self over Elizabeth's wounds until she had sworn to the hobbit she was fine and that she would rest. It had taken the wizard to pry him away from the woman's side. 

Thorin expression shuttered as he took the first steps towards her intent on answers, and ascertaining whether she was well enough for travel or if they would lose more time. However, when he came to stand before her, he was silent. It was not speechlessness that held his tongue, but he stared down at her with consideration. He shifted through the memories of the journey, ever since they had left Bag End's. It had been nearly a month's travel and Thorin could feel the time slipping through his fingers like sand out of a broken hourglass. 

But that did not leave him blind, he thought as he watched Elizabeth's brows furrowed and her eyes slip open. "Must you hover?" She asked, archly. Normally, Thorin would have taken offence, but he held his temper at bay for her words lacked any harshness. Instead, she looked tired and incredibly wary. 

"What you did was incredible foolish," Thorin told her, his face a blank slate save for the slight furrow in his brow. He was not the only one who had built up walls. Though where he had no compulsion to conceal his, for those who distrusted his kind did not and he treated them in kind, Elizabeth hid hers behind smiles and a carefully built façade. His wariness of her did not just stem from his general distrust of everyone who wasn't a dwarf, it stemmed from the fact that she was hiding. And there were only a handful of reason for someone to hide who or what they truly were. 

"Most people just call me stubborn," Elizabeth said, with a slight snort of amusement as her lips quirked upward in a half smile. 

"Aye." A ghost of smile around his mouth. "You are that, too." His smile was gone as swiftly as it came when his eyes flickered towards the dying blood on her forehead. "You need someone to tend to your wounds." 

His callous fingers brushed the side of her face, and Elizabeth felt a startled breath slip right out of her. It had not been Thorin's intention to reach out and touch her so. He let his hand linger though for a second he wished to draw it back. However, he felt to draw his hand away now would come from a place of indecision, and he could not afford to appear as such. No, he let his hand linger and his eyes scanned over the discolorations of her skin. An angry purple, and black that swelled up along her cheek and temple. 

"Does it hurt?" Thorin inquired, his voice was indifferent. His expression seemed flat, and deceptively void of any feelings. His eyes were a different story brimming with untold emotions. 

And again, Elizabeth for the life of her seemed not able to tell what his thoughts and emotions were. Perhaps they were not hers to know, she mused silently. His large hands didn't seem like they could be so gentle, but they ghosted across her bruising skin as if she was delicate like glass. Almost as if he was afraid if one wrong movement would break her. The way his hand skimmed across her skin left her strangely flustered and without words for a moment. A hiss escaped through clenched teeth as he brushed along the side of her head where it had hit the thick bark of the tree. It was a wonder that her head had not been cracked wide open and she shuddered at the thought. 

"It's just a scratch," she murmured, quietly. Her fingers reaching up brushing them along his knuckles. Unconsciously she leaned into his touched, and her eyes drifted half closed. 

"It is more than just a scratch," the King stated, his voice very grave and very serious. He had heard how hard the Troll has slammed her body into that tree. The thud had been deafening, and he had not been the only one certain that it was her end. He remember the stricken expression that seemed to pass across everyone's face and despite himself he had not been immune to it at the sight of her still body hanging in the Troll's grasp. 

The corners of her mouth tipped in a smile. "Be careful, your majesty," she warned, a teasing note in her voice. "It almost sounds as if you care. And I am not your responsibility remember?" She saw something pass through his eyes, too quickly for her to distinguish what it was, and she said nothing as he drew his hand away in one careful movement. 

"See that your wounds are taken care of," he said, gruffly and made to turn away from her when she stopped him. 

"I would take back my words," she suddenly said, when it seemed like he was going to turn away. She couldn't help, but feel like this moment was fleeting. That as soon as everyone was confirmed well and they once again got upon the road, that it would all go back to the way it was with them; cold and barely tolerating each other. She did not realize how much it bothered her until now. "Back at Bree…" She elaborated, knowing that was a wrong that she need to make right. "I spoke out of anger for having my honor and intentions questioned so. I lashed out in a childish way, and I would take those words back. I can tell you are many things, Mister Oakenshield, but an orc is not one of them and I would apologize for the slight in calling you one." 

Thorin stood there motionless for a moment before he inclined his head in acceptance. A relieved breath slipped out of Elizabeth, while Thorin then spoke. "A wise man once told me that even a leader must acknowledge when they are wrong, for no leader is without fault or flaws because a leader blind to himself, is blind to all else." His blue eyes caught Elizabeth's and he drew in a great breath. "I do not know what manner of person you are, Elizabeth Morgan, for we've only be acquainted for a brief period of time…but I did you a disservice that day in Bree to call your character in question when you have done nothing to earn it. I would have my words stricken from memory as well." 

"Consider them stricken," Elizabeth agreed because it was probably the closest to an apology that Thorin Oakenshield would ever give. Once again she felt like she was on even footing with him, though why this was so important to her she did not know. 

"Ah! There you are," Gandalf walked over towards them. A look of determination on his face as he halted before the Company leader. 

If Thorin still held any displeasure towards the wizard for their previous argument, it did not show. Instead, blue eyes searched the wizard intently. "Where did you go to, if I may ask?" He asked, his tone was surprisingly impeccably polite as a politician. Genially, but not overly so. 

"To look ahead," Gandalf stated, as if that explained it all. 

Thorin concealed his exasperation with a sigh. "What brought you back?" He asked, curiously. 

"Looking behind." Gandalf said, with a smile. His eyes spared the Trolls who were now, and forever more, stone statues a quick glance. 

"How you speak in riddles yet so plainly is something I will never grasp," Thorin stated, his voice gruff as he just shook his head lightly at the wizard. 

Gandalf ignored the dwarf's statement. "Nasty business. Still, they are all in one piece," the wizard stated, his thoughts still on the Trolls. "No thanks to your burglar," Thorin stated, harshly. A prickle of dissonant quivered down Elizabeth's spine, but she held her tongue fast choosing to instead to glower upon Thorin's back. Her head throbbed too painfully to get into a battle of sharp tongues and shouting voices at the moment. "He had the nous to play for time so that Elizabeth and Strider and myself could find a way to save you. None of the rest of you thought of that," Gandalf reprimanded, with an eyebrow arched. He did not mention Arwen, Elizabeth noted, though he no doubt knew of her as well. 

Thorin looked down, a bit of repentant on his face for he could not deny that truth. He gazed up at the troll statues with a heavy frown upon his face. For the second time, his company had found themselves in mortal danger and he prayed to Mahal that this would not continue to be the way of things to come. "Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?" Thorin commented, his eyes narrowed. 

"Ettenmoors. That's where they had to come from," Elizabeth threw her two cents in, though she would rather not dwell on such unpleasant things as Trolls. She wasn't overly fond of them before the fight, and she found her exceedingly less so afterward. 

"Indeed." Gandalf concurred, with a thoughtfully nod and ran his hand through his beard. "Though it is troubling. Trolls have not ventured down from the Ettenmoor for an age, not since a darker power ruled these lands." 

"They could not have moved in daylight." Gandalf stilled while Thorin tensed, and Elizabeth just leaned back against the tree again as Strider approached with a blank expression upon his face. "There must be a cave nearby," the Ranger offered his thoughts, his voice smooth and collected. 

Thorin just looked at him through narrowed eyes, while Gandalf relaxed his stance. 

"Ah, Strider. What a pleasant surprise," the wizard said, with a touch of warmth in his voice. "May I present Thorin Oakenshield, the leader of our Company." 

Strider looked upon the dwarf and gave a slight bow. "Strider, at your service," the Ranger said, respectfully. However there was a lilt in his voice that bespoken of something else. A hint of curiosity. Whether this curiosity stemmed from his own curious nature or the fact that Elizabeth clearly saw something in these dwarves, Strider was not certain. 

"Thorin Oakenshield, at yours." Thorin spoke, his tone careful. He did not know Strider, and his expression held a touch of wariness that he could not conceal. It was natural for him to be distrustful of men, for they were only marginally better at holding to their words than elves. "You are a Ranger of the North?" He inquired, an inquisitive eyebrow arched. 

"I am," Strider did not deny it. "And you are Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror." 

Thorin did not miss the meaning behind the statement, for it was no question. It was to imply that the Ranger knew exactly who he was dealing with. It also gave Thorin an insight into the man that stood before him. He was a learned man. He had been taught history and about nobility for while the tale of the Lonely Mountain was wide spread, the names of the Kings and Royalty were more common knowledge to dwarves, and the nobility of the other races. He doubted a man that had come from destitute means would know his name. "I am," Thorin stated, for he would not deny his heritage or his name. "Elizabeth claims that you are her brother." 

"Yes," Strider inclined his head. "Her younger brother." 

"Younger?" Thorin said, with frank surprise. 

"That is surprising?" Strider countered, brows lifted. 

"Forgive my astonishment," Thorin stated, frowning. His blue eyes narrowed upon Strider before they twisted towards Elizabeth. "I was under the impression that Elizabeth was the youngest for she appears younger than you." 

Elizabeth sat up, alarmed. Her eyes stared at Thorin for a long second before she looked at Strider and really looked at him. He was well into adulthood, and would be thirty annuals in only two years time. Perhaps it was her time away that left her slack jawed when she realized that indeed Strider looked older than her. It was not an overwhelming stated, but the closer she looked, the more she noticed. His face had lost all traces of youth and had hardened into that of a man. His eyes were older with crinkles on the edges of them, and held a care that he did not have before. All her air left her in a gush, a feeling akin to heartbreak, but not exactly so lanced through her chest like quicksilver. She stared upon Strider with a stricken expression for she remembered a time when he had been nothing more than a babe that she used to hold in her arms. 

"Well, Elizabeth is remarkably well preserved," Gandalf commented, putting an end to that start away and the wizard ignored the shrieking offended noise that ripped up Elizabeth's throat. "Now back onto the matter of the Troll cave," the wizard stated. "I believe it would prudent to search and see if the cave is nearby." 

"Why would we need to go through a Troll's cave?" Elizabeth asked, brows pinched. 

"Because of their hoard," Thorin replied. "Trolls plundered anything and everything and hoard into in their caves. We may find something of great value in there such as supplies or coin or weapons." 

"Hmm. So what you are saying is that a Troll is a smaller, more ignorant and wingless version of a dragon?" Elizabeth ran a hand down her face, grimacing as her fingertips ran across the dry flecks of blood. Thorin gave her a deadpanned glower, as if he did not appreciate a dragon being made so lightly of while Strider just looked at her amused. 

"Exactly, but not at all," Gandalf's helpful reply was. 

It was Elizabeth's turn to shoot a deadpan look at the wizard, and just gave a light snort which caused her to groan for her head still ached dreadfully so. It was quickly decided to search for the cavern, and the dwarves after gathering up camp the best they could for most of the ponies bolted (including Aracala, to Elizabeth's dismay) and headed of in search of the Troll cave. "Remarkably well preserved. For someone who values the use of words and cleverly speaks in riddles, he could have said something better than 'remarkably well preserved'," Elizabeth muttered underneath her breath as she shoved past a bush. It was not a surprise when Bilbo appeared at her side. 

"Are you sure you should be up and about?" The hobbit asked, a worried frown marring his features. 

"Laying down would be worse. The longer I stay put, the longer I would not want move," Elizabeth replied, with a hearty sigh. "I will take rest when next make camp. For now I will endure." 

"As you ever do," Bilbo stated. 

"As I ever do," Elizabeth agreed, the corner of her mouth quirked upward in a smile. 

Her expression softened, and she glanced sideways at Bilbo. "Do you want to talk about her?" There had been a dark cloud over the hobbit's head since Bree, doubly so now after events with the Trolls. She did not think she could dispel his trouble over the Trolls, but she might be able to do it over Ivy. Elizabeth was not blind, she had seen the looks between the hobbits. 

"Her who?" Bilbo said, evasively. 

"Ivy," Elizabeth elaborated, though she knew Bilbo knew exactly whom she meant. "It was obvious that she cares for you." 

Bilbo blinked, surprised. "How can you tell?" 

"The way she looked at you," Elizabeth replied, simply. "There is a way that someone looks upon those that they love. There is a look that a mother gives a child, that a daughter gives her father, and then there is a way lovers look upon one another. A look that it feels that even time would stand still for. She gave you such a look when she first saw you though she tried to hide it." 

"You got all that from a look?" Bilbo said, skeptically. Though inside his heart was hammering like a mad man's as he went over Ivy's parting words and his hand gently went around his right wrist where her bracelet now resided. 

"Eyes rarely lie," Elizabeth said, with a flick of her wrist. 

"Hmph." Bilbo went quiet for a moment then sighed. He had never told anyone about how Ivy parted from the Shire, and from him. Not even his mother. It felt easier to not speak of it, for then he didn't have to think about it. "Ivy…Ivy means…" He pinched the bridge of his nose before he corrected. "She meant more to me than I can explain with words. As fauntlings we tormented each other, I used to pull her hair, she used to shove me into mud puddles. My parents and her parents thought it was adorable…" A wistful smile crossed his face and he seemed lighter when he recalled the past. "As tweens we were sweethearts and at one point the entire Shire was convinced we would be wed. And…they were right. Ivy and I had plans on doing so." 

Elizabeth had never heard this story before and was frankly more than a little surprised. "Then what happened?" She asked, softly. 

"You know what happened," Bilbo said, with a rueful smile. "The Fell Winter happened. Ivy's family, the Goodchilds, lived on the edge of the Shire, the closest to the Brandywine and were the first ones to be struck when the river froze. No one knew until it was too late. My mother had traveled out to bring them to Brandybuck Hall where they would be safe, but…the only Goodchild that was left was Ivy. My mother found her curled up in a ball in the cellar where her father had locked her in so the wolves could not get to her." 

"Bilbo…" Elizabeth look aghast. 

"Don't apologize," Bilbo shook his head at her. "It was before you came to the Shire to help. It was before any of us really understood what that Winter would come to mean." He ran a hand down his face and felt so weary. "After the winter, Ivy was not the same. She hated being in the Shire where everywhere there were reminders and one day she packed her things and left." 

"Without a word?" Elizabeth didn't know the hobbit lass that well, but she did not see Ivy being so cruel to leave without goodbye. 

"No," Bilbo shook his head. "There were words. She…she asked me to come with her," he admitted, outloud to someone for the first time ever. "She begged me to leave the Shire so we could start over. So we could be something more than the scars that we were left with. I told her no." 

Sadness fell over him, and he saw Elizabeth staring down at him with wide eyes full of compassion and sympathy. Her mouth opened and closed when she could not find words that could soothe the pain that must have been on his face. But that was alright because his pains were not her burden, they were his. "My mother needed me, and I feared leaving the Shire. It was one of the few things that I had left," Bilbo divulged, softly. "So I told her no, and she left without me." 

Elizabeth came to a halt, and twisted towards the hobbit to face him completely. She reached out, and cupped his shoulders in a gesture of comfort. "But she still cares for you," she stated, softly. "Surely that must mean something." 

"Does it?" Bilbo questioned. His thoughts and fears out in the open laid bare for anyone to see. "Gandalf said…he said that when I return on this journey, if I was to return, then I would not be the same hobbit. How can it mean something if I come back not as the hobbit she cared for?" 

"Oh, Bilbo," Elizabeth gave a light laugh. "It has been over twenty years since the Fell Winter, and if her feelings have endured for you for so long and yours for her even though years have past and she is undoubtedly not the same hobbit that left the Shire…how can you doubt that she wouldn't do the same for you? Faith, Bilbo Baggins. You must learn to have some in others, and most importantly in yourself." 

"You make is sound so easy," Bilbo huffed. 

"Sometimes it is," Elizabeth retorted, a smidgen of smugness upon her face then her face smoothed out into seriousness. "Never give up on the hope for happiness, Bilbo. Happiness is a simple thing, but something everyone desires. It is hard won and hard to keep, but ever worth the fight." 

Bilbo touched the wooden bracelet with a light smile. "And what of you? What of your happiness?" He asked, his hazel brown eyes peered up at her. 

"Haven't found it yet," Elizabeth paused for only a moment. Her nose then wrinkled as the wind brought a rancid odor along with it. "Some thing tells me that the cave is that way," she said, pressing her knuckles to her nose delicately in an effort to keep the smell at bay as they ventured forward. She idly wondered where Arwen was, and her eyes flickered over towards Strider who was only a few feet ahead of them. She would bet that the elf woman was somewhere close to the Ranger. 

"So that…is a Troll cave," Bilbo watched the dwarves go in from a safe distance for the smell was truly awful. He would most definitely not be venturing in. "I expected something more…" The hobbit frowned. "I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it was more than just than a normal looking cave. Maybe a door, or a key." 

"A door on a Troll cave?" Elizabeth snorted. "What a strange notion." She shook her head with a laugh then walked forward when the hobbit put a hand on her wrist. "What?" She blinked down at him. 

"You are not going in there, are you?" Bilbo's eyebrows were up in his hairline. "Into that stench?" 

"Yes, I am," Elizabeth said. "I've never been in a troll hoard before. I want to see what it is like," she said, tugging at her collar a little bit flustered. 

"You are…" Bilbo narrowed his eyes, and shook her head. "Worse than any fauntling I have ever know, and I am including the Tooks in that assessment mind you." 

Elizabeth gave a guilty grin. "There is a bit of truth in that, yes," she said, sheepishly scratching at her jaw. "If I see anything hobbity I will grab it for you, yes?" "Hobbity? Hobbity is not a proper word," Bilbo shook his head, with a fond exasperated smile on his face. 

"It is to me," Elizabeth said, with a lofty brow raised then her features smoothed out into a smile. "Sit and rest. I will be out momentarily," and she turned towards the cave. She squared her shoulders, and held her breath before she marched into the cavern. The first thing that hit her was the smell. A odor so rancid, so putrid that it made her sick down the depths of her soul and sent a shudder down her spine. She pressed the back of her hand up against her nose in an effort to fend it off, but it was in vain. The odor was so pungent that it made all her muscles tense fighting off the urge to be sick and only intensified the throbbing ache that rippled through her body. 

"Oi, what is that stench?" Nori complained, nose wrinkled. 

"It's a troll cave," Elizabeth swallowed thickly, tossing him a look over her shoulder as she passed by. "Did you honestly expect it to smell good?" She asked, dryly. 

"No," Nori countered, eyeing his surrounding with an air of disgust. "But I did not think the odor would be so lethal." 

Elizabeth would have gave a breathy laugh if it were not for the fact she was trying not to breath so much. The odor was truly something lethal and she was half surprised that it had burned the hair right off the dwarves' faces. Though she did not say that outloud since she had a feeling no one, save for Gandalf, would appreciate the joke. Small bones and large bones were scattered across the floor and Elizabeth stepped over them carefully, feeling pity for the poor souls that rested here. She wished she had some way of giving the proper rest, but she doubted the Company would want to linger for that long. 

She murmured a quiet prayer underneath her breath for them as she ventured further into the cavern. There was a strange assortment of things carelessly on shelves and on the ground. It was a testament to how long these Trolls had gone unnoticed and while they had been exceedingly stupid, they had been no less dangerous. Her eyes traced over everything from brass buttons to pots full of gold coins standing in a corner. A number of caskets as well filled the brim with jewels. There were lots of clothes, too, hanging on the walls. 

_Too small for any trolls,_ Elizabeth thought and her stomach twisted for a whole different reason than the stench. 

"Seems like such a shame," Bofur commented, airily as his large brown eyes took everything in, "just to leave it lying around. I mean, anyone could just waltz right in and take it…" he raised an eyebrow in the others direction. 

Gloin stroked his beard, the looking in his eyes was calculating. "Agreed. Nori, a shovel, if you would," Gloin stated as he grabbed a small chest of treasure. "I propose we take some for the road, and some for a long term deposit?" 

"Sensible," Bofur nodded. "Sensible." 

Elizabeth saw several swords of various makes, shapes, and sizes. She could make out Thorin looking through them when his eyes fell upon a pair of swords covered in cobwebs. "These swords were not by the hands of a troll," he commented, a bit of curiosity in his voice as he pulled one out and then handed the other to Gandalf. Thorin used the sleeve of his cloak to remove the webs off the sword to reveal the beautiful scabbard and jeweled hilt. 

"Nor were they made by the hands of man," said the wizard, looking at the blade curiously while Thorin half drew the blade to inspect it. It was a fine blade with one curved and sharpened side meant for slashing and beheading opponents. The dwarf drew back intent on taking the blade with him, when the wizard continued. "There were forged in Gondolin by the High Elves of the First Age." 

Disgust and revulsion ripped through Thorin, and he went to toss the blade away when Gandalf cautioned, sharply, "You could not ask for a finer blade." 

Thorin stared at the wizard for a long moment, before he looked down at the blade with a sense of reluctance falling upon his shoulders. He kept the blade tightly in hand when he noticed Elizabeth loitering there in the middle of the cave with a peculiar look on her face. "You should be taking the time to rest," Thorin instantly reprimanded. "It will be the last chance you have until nightfall." 

Elizabeth didn't reply, her attention captured by something in the far corner. 

Something glowing, and the glow got brighter and brighter the closer she got towards it. Gandalf narrowed his eyes when he watched Elizabeth edge forward, her head lightly cocked to the side. "Elizabeth," the wizard began carefully. "What is it?" 

"A light…" Elizabeth asked, her eyes fixated on a cloth in the corner of the room though no one else could see that light that she spoke of. "Do you not see?" 

"What light? There is no light," Thorin looked at her, a flare of alarm in his gaze. 

"Yes, there is," Elizabeth said, her lips tilted upward against her will. She did not know why she wanted to smile, or why there was such a strange giddiness that rose within her chest. She could not describe the feeling as drew closer to the cloth. Warmth, was the only apt description that came to mind as she reached a steady hand towards it to pick it up. 

"Elizabeth," the wizard began to warn her to use caution but she had already hefted the cloth into her arms. She cradled it there with a look a fascination on her face as she stared down into the crystal clear light. She had never seen such a light in her life. So bright and white and it made her feel warm. She gently pulled back the cloth and the light dimmed and as the light dimmed a sword came into focus. The blade was long and sharp and the color of burnt of gold. The hilt was made from ebony and made to grasp with one hand, Elizabeth found as she did just that. The cloth fell away and Elizabeth looked at where the blade and hilt met. It was a circular design so intricate and so carefully made that it was breathtaking and in the center of it rested a jewel that looked as if it were made from starlight. 

Her hand tightened around the hilt and the blade felt that it belonged in her hands. 

Like it was an extension of herself in a way that no other weapon had ever become. Her daggers and bows she treasured because they were gifts and they suited her well. This, however…this was something else. Elizabeth stared down at the blade with a hefty frown upon her lips. 

"Do my eyes deceive me?" Gandalf stared at the blade in complete shock. "To have found this blade here…" the wizard looked from the blade to Elizabeth with a scrutinizing intensity that drew Elizabeth out of the spell the sword seemed to have over her. 

"What?" Elizabeth looked at the wizard. 

"Hmm." Gandalf seemed to be pondering something before he spared her a half smile. "We will discuss it another time," the wizard decided as he grabbed a smaller blade, also of elvish make, from the cobwebs. "And in a much better suited place than this," he eyed the cave with distaste and then marched away without another word with Elizabeth staring at his back with an incredulous expression. 

"Can you ever give a straight forward answer about anything?" Elizabeth called out, a little less enthusiastic about the sword now. She wasn't entirely sure she should carry the blade with her, after, all it was clearly enchanted. Enchanted items were rarely, if ever, all that they appeared. 

"Yes," Gandalf called back, and then disappeared around the corner of the cave. Elizabeth shook her head back and forth, then proceeded to curse wizards underneath her tongue while she marched towards the front of the cave. She vaguely heard Dwalin ask Gloin, Nori and Bofur what exactly did they think they were doing to which Gloin replied, "We're making a long term deposit!" 

"Let's get out of this horrible smell!" Fili said, an almost comical look of disgust upon his face as he hurried towards the exit with his hand steadying Kili who looked more than a little green. Bifur and Dori were carrying out bouts of food to inspect and see if anything was edible. So far they had little luck; just a few loafs of breed and a couple of small wheels of cheese. Oin most enthusiastically found a barrel of ale that was untouched, but his excitement quickly diminished when Ori asked how they were supposed to pack it around. 

"You know I have thought of a very good reason for drinking…" Oin mused, and proceed to set about opening the barrel to get himself some ale. "If a man can't drink when he is living, then how the heck can he drink when he's dead?" 

"I…uh, I don't know?" Ori's reply was less than helpful. 

The entire company gathered outside of the cave, minus Bofur, Gloin and Nori who were still burying their deposit and the even managed to get Gandalf to cast a few spells on it for safe keeping. Elizabeth found Bilbo sitting outside off to the side, a crease ran along his forehead as his gaze flickered around the forest with a bit of apprehension. "So I see you survived the cave," Bilbo stated as she came to sit on the rock beside him after securing the strange sword to her back with some spare rope in her satchel. 

"The only thing to survive in their was the stench," Elizabeth drew in a deep breath of the fresh air feeling as if she would never be able to get enough of it. "Oh," she pressed her fingers to her tempers and massaged ever so gently. "What I wouldn't give for some elvish healing right now." 

"Well, if you were not so committed to playing the fool," Strider appeared beside them as if he always been standing there and made Bilbo jolt a foot into the air, "then you would not be in need of any healing." 

"Ah, Strider," Elizabeth smiled, thinly. "Don't you know the threat is over? You can stop being such a convincing Troll now." 

Strider snorted, loudly. His sharpened gaze then flickered down the hobbit and a small smile crossed his face. "You must be Bilbo Baggins," Strider greeted, with his hand pressed to his chest while he inclined forward ever so slightly in a bow. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Elizabeth spoke of you and the Shire often from what I recall." 

"She did?" Bilbo said, blinking. 

"I did," Elizabeth admitted, with the slightest of nod. She rolled her shoulders that were knotted with tension, and let out a slight sigh. "Bilbo," she addressed the hobbit while she gestured to the Ranger, "allow me to introduce Strider, Ranger of the North and general pain in the arse. More commonly referred to as my brother." 

Bilbo frowned, he vaguely recalled Elizabeth mentioning a brother some time before, but Elizabeth rarely went into specifics of her own life. For all she appeared open and easy to read as a book, she was hardly like that at all. "Bilbo Baggins, a pleasure to meet you," Bilbo smiled, kindly. "Though I wish it had been on better circumstances." 

"Indeed," a trace of amusement flickered across Strider's face. "Though I suppose I should have expected to run into some kind of trouble for trouble always manages to find Elizabeth," Strider shot her a smirk when her eyebrow ticked upward as her eyes narrowed. "And she does nothing by halves." 

"A truer truth has never been spoken," the hobbit laughed, and Elizabeth looked between the pair with eyebrows up into her hair line. The two were bonding. They were bonding over mocking her. She didn't know whether to be glad or completely terrified to be perfectly honest. Her brows furrowed when Gandalf approached and asked for a moment alone with Bilbo. 

"Again?" Bilbo asked, before he could help himself. 

"You find something wrong with my company?" The wizard arched a haughty brow. 

"No, not at all," Bilbo said, but there was a second of hesitation before he said that. 

The wizard decided to ignore it and usher him off the side while Elizabeth watched with her arms crossed. She watched the wizard hand Bilbo over what appeared to be an elvish dagger, though for a hobbit it made the perfect sword. She did not doubt the wizard was giving him some kind of words of wisdom when she noticed Strider's unwavering gaze upon her face. Her eyebrow ticked upward in annoyance, "What?" 

_"Mankoi?" Why?_ Strider questioned, his voice suspiciously light. Elizabeth's face giving nothing, but her eyes were not as stoic. Her eyes gave away everything. She had known this conversation was one that she couldn't avoid though she had hoped that she could. "Why did you run away and never come back? Why did you never send word that you were alive? Why did you let us wonder for so long?" 

_"Mankoi lle irma sint?" Why do you want to know?_ Elizabeth's voice soft and monotone earning a sharp look from the ranger. 

_"Tampa tanya," Stop that!_ He ordered, his voice raising slight and the dwarves to stop in their walk, causing the ranger's eyes to flicker over. They stood there for a moment, the crickets chirping before the dwarves slowly turned away worried frowns on their faces. Strider's eyes turned back to her, his jaw ticked ever so slightly. He started again, his voice a rough whisper, "Stop avoiding the question." 

Elizabeth heaved a deep sigh. She cast her eyes downward for a brief second, sadness seeping into her expression before she shook her head lightly. "It wasn't mine to keep," she muttered, quietly. 

Strider's eyes widened, his lips parted in shock before he opened his mouth to speak when his head snapped towards the woods. His face ripples through so many emotions so fast that Elizabeth could barely make them out, but the one that she does make out makes her spine snap straight. Alarm. Strider looked alarmed. "What is it?" She asked. 

"Something is in the woods," Strider announced loudly so his voice carried over to the dwarves. 

Thorin had already drawn his sword for he too noticed the sudden shift in the air and his lips curled back as his blue eyes narrowed into two vicious slits as he sought out whatever it was. "Stay together!" Thorin ordered, as the company gathered together in a tight circle. "Arm yourselves!" 

Bilbo looked down at his sword, and slowly drew it out as the words Gandalf told him repeated through his mind. _"True courage is not knowing when to take a life,"_ the wizard said, sagely, _"but knowing when to spare one."_ He did not feel entirely comfortable in using the blade. It felt so wrong within his grasp, and he tries to remember what Elizabeth told him. That a weapon must be an extension of a warrior, but he wasn't a warrior. He was a hobbit and he was not meant for weapons. 

Elizabeth's hand went to the sword on her back first before a jolt of shock rushed through her. She was not using that sword, at least not until she knew why Gandalf had given her such a look nor why he seemed rather pleased by her finding it. Her hand went to her bow, but before she could even pull it from her shoulder a rabbit drawn sled burst from the bushes carrying none other than Radagast the Brown. Elizabeth blinked, then a half of a second almost laughed at the absurdity of it until Radagast shouted, his voice trembling with panic, "Thieves! Fire! Murder!" 

"What on earth?" Dori gasped. 

"Who is that?" Bofur asked, confused. 

"And just when I think that this couldn't get stranger," Dwalin shook his head, his eyes on the strange man. 

The Company held out their weapons, though they glanced at each other not sure what to make of this apparent foe. "Put your weapons away," Gandalf told them, with a wave of his hand. "He is no enemy of yours." 

"Then he is a friend of yours?" Thorin asked, a glower fixated upon the grey wizard. 

"Indeed he is," Gandalf sniffed, before he walked towards the distraught Radagast. 

Radagast was a great deal shorter than Gandalf, but closer to the size of a dwarf than a hobbit. His brown hair was long and wiry and it appeared there was a patch of dried bird feces matted on the right side of his head. His large brown eyes were filled with terror and he shifted about nervously. "My dear Radagast, what on earth are you doing here? And why ever are you so distressed?" 

"I was looking for you, Gandalf," Radagast fiddled with reigns of his sled nervously before he set them down and walked toward the grey wizard. His knees wobbled so that Elizabeth was half surprised that he hadn't fallen over. "Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong." 

"Yes?" Gandalf asked, with a light frown. 

Radagast opened his mouth then it clicked shut. He had a baffled look upon his face as if very and terribly confused. He opened and shut his mouth in a way that resembled a fish while fustration mounted in his eyes. "Oh, confound it," he said, placed a hand over his mouth and looked around at the ground as if the thought he had just lost would be lying about on the ground. "Oh, just give me a minute. Um, oh, I had a thought, and now I've lost it. It was, it was right there, on the tip of my tongue. Oh…" He curled up his tongue, and a faint looked of surprise crossed his face. "Oh, it's not a thought at all; it's a silly old…" 

Gandalf let out a huff of amusement as he pulled a stick insect off of Radagast who let out a laugh. "It's a stick insect." 

"Did he just pull that out of his mouth?" Kili gaped, while Fili made a face. The rest of the dwarves gave varying looks of disgust while Bifur searched his own tongue for a stick insect much to Bofur's amusement. 

Bilbo made a gagging noise, then looked purposefully away in order to keep down the scant breakfast that they had this morning. Elizabeth made a face, one twisted into a half smile and half grimace while Strider tilted his head to the side, brows furrowed. 

"The Greenwood is sick, Gandalf. A darkness has fallen over it. Nothing grows any more, at least nothing good. The air is foul with decay. But worst are the webs," Radagast said, in a hushed whisper. His eyes darted from the grey wizard to the dwarves to Bilbo then lastly on Strider and Elizabeth. His expression considerably brightened when he saw Elizabeth. "Oh, hello, Elizabeth! Lovely to see you again!" 

Elizabeth gave him a half smile. "It is lovely to see you again as well Radagast," she said, sincerely. Radagast may come off as clumsy or scattered minded, but he was one of the best people she had ever encountered in Middle Earth. 

Gandalf gently placed a hand on Radagast's shoulder and eased him further away from the group so they may speak in hushed tones without being overheard. Dwalin watched with a gruff expression, and he looked over at Thorin who watched with a stony look in his eyes. "What do you reckon that's all about?" Dwalin asked, he couldn't help the twinge of curiosity. 

"It matters not," Thorin decided, dismissively. "All that it has done has made it clear that the wizard has other priorities and responsibilities that he cannot escape. If he cannot escape them then we cannot count on his presences for this journey and we will proceed with our plans as if he will not be there. Understood?" He twisted to look at Balin who nodded, grimly. Dwalin did not look particularly pleased with notion, and if Thorin was honest neither was he. He had not put much stock into the wizard's word, and he was glad that he had not let his faith rest solely on Gandalf's shoulders. Thorin had known wizard would do as wizard did and come and go as they pleased like the old tales stated. He could not be trusted to stay with them for the entire journey, and Thorin doubted the wizard would be there when they reclaimed the mountain. 

There was another ruffling noise from the woods, and before anyone could say anything Arwen came bursting out of the bushes as if the hounds of hell were nipping at her heels. She slid to a graceful stop in front of Strider and Elizabeth while taking a split second to gather her bearings. Instantly everything erupted into a flurry of chaotic shouts from the dwarves. 

"An elf?" Several dwarves looked outraged. 

"What is a tree shagger doing here?" 

"Arwen!" Elizabeth said, paying them little heed as she watched the elf maiden staggered to her feet. She could not remember a time seeing Arwen appear so rattled and completely unlike her composed self. Strider was by Arwen's side in an instant, one hand on her cheek and the other on her shoulder acting as anchor to steady her. Her hands landed on his chest, and she drew in a deep breath for feeling the strength of his heart beat beneath her palm soothed her. 

"I had thought I'd be too late," Arwen said, her blue eyes looked up at Strider. 

"Arwen, what happened? Too late for what?" Strider asked, concerned. 

Arwen did not get a chance to reply for Thorin stepped forward, his voice booming as he demanded, "What is the meaning of this?" His eyes landed on Elizabeth who had stepped unconsciously between Arwen and the dwarves. "Woman, explain _now_." 

Elizabeth's brows lifted then slanted with irritation for she was back to being called _woman_ in that harsh, sharp tone of his that seemed grated along every one of her nerves. "You were about to be given one, Mister Oakenshield," Elizabeth stated, stiffly. "That was until you felt the need to inter…" 

Her sarcastic comment was cut off by a bone chilling howl that echoed through the trees. Her heart seemed to cease beating her chest as she twisted and turned towards Arwen, a horrifying understanding rushing through her as she took in the disheveled elf's appearance. "Was that a wolf? Are there—are there wolves out there?" Elizabeth heard Bilbo faintly ask. 

"That is no wolf," Arwen found her voice. "Wargs-scouts. They cornered me in the forest. I managed to get away mostly unscathed, but I do not believe it was me they hunted for." 

Elizabeth twisted her gaze back to Thorin's and saw the swift realization flare up inside his gaze but before another word could be uttered out from a nearby crag, a warg leapt forth. It leapt into the midst of the Company, knocking Bifur and Dori down onto the ground. Thorin twisted into an arch, striking out with Orcist and killed the warg before it could lunge upon any victim. Another warg came bursting through the treeline and Elizabeth spun around, shooting it with an arrow. The arrow struck it right in the eye, but it was not the only arrow fired. Kili had also drawn his bow swiftly and fired. The warg stumbled in shock by the arrows lodged in him, and Dwalin brought his axe down upon it to finish it off. 

As the warg's body fell to the ground dead, Dwalin turned towards Thorin. "The elf speaks the truth," the tattoo dwarf stated, sourly. "These are no wild wargs. These are warg-scouts." 

"Which means an Orc pack is not far behind," Thorin looked as if he had bit into something particularly foul tasting as his hand clenched tightly around Orcist. 

"Orc pack?" Bilbo blanched, all the color draining from his face. Elizabeth's hand rested on his shoulder, though she could not stop the faint tremble of her fingers belying her own nerves as she twisted her bow in her other hand. Her breathing was slightly elevated and her eyes darted around waiting for the next attack. 

Gandalf's expression tightened and he whirled around on Thorin. "Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?" The wizard demanded, darkly. 

"No one," Thorin stated, just as darkly. 

"Who did you tell?" The wizard pressed. 

"No one," Thorin repeated, this time with a snarl on his face. He had to bite the inside of his cheek harshly in order not to snap at the wizard nor to accuse him of having something to do with this mess. "What in Durin's name is going on?" 

"You are being hunted," Elizabeth's quiet voice drew Thorin's gaze upon her. Her face was blanched of all color and her eyes were narrowed upon the dead warg with an intense look of anger and dread. "These are Gundabad Wargs. The best hunters of their kind. This is no mere coincidence they are here now nipping at our heels, is there?" Her question was meant for Thorin, but it was Gandalf who answered. "Indeed not. We need move, and swiftly," Gandalf advised, his sharp tone turning into something more resigned and wary. 

"We can't! We have no ponies; they bolted," Ori stated, panicked. 

"We could fight," Dwalin suggested. 

"You know not the enemies numbers," Elizabeth countered, sharply. 

"Their numbers were great," Arwen informed them all, not in the least bit intimidated or daunted by the looks thrown in her direction. "This is like no hunt I have ever seen or heard of before. They are determined to see you all dead." 

Thorin reluctantly considered the elf's words though it left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

"We need to move and now," Thorin ordered, a grim look upon his face. 

Radagast pursed his lips in thought for a second. "I'll draw them off," the Brown Wizard offered, much to the surprise of the dwarves. "While chasing me it may just give you the time you need to get to safety." 

[ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/tumblr_mg1y9g0sH91ql9gkyo1_500_zpshhp9eege.gif.html)

"You heard what Elizabeth said, Radagast," Gandalf looked at his friend with a frown. "These are Gundabad Wargs. They will outrun you and slaughter you before you have a chance to escape." 

"Hmph." Radagast made a noise as if offended while he raised his chin in a show of defiance. "These are Rhosgobel Rabbits," the Brown Wizard informed the Grey Wizard, with a wicked gleam of mischief and smugness in his eyes. "I'd like to see them try." 

* * *

A sense of urgency hung into the air as Radagast rushed across the plains, the Rhosgobel rabbits running as fast as their paws would allow. "Come and get me!" Radagast yelled, giving them a jaunty wave with his hat and the wargs and their riders immediately gave chase. Trees and a large boulder kept the Company hidden from plain sight with Gandalf at the front, peering around the corner until the coast was clear. 

"Come on!" The wizard urged them, and the Company rushed forward across the rocky plain. 

There seemed to be no trees and no valleys and no hills to break the ground in front of them, no good place to hide if the orcs gave up on chasing Radagast and turned around. Elizabeth could not deny the panic that flooded into her heart while she tried to simultaneously keep an eye on everyone and make sure that no one would fall behind. Her feet crossed the heather colored land and they passed by crumbling rocks scattered across land. Though only few would hide thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, a wizard, an elf and two humans. And they could not afford to split up. 

The noon sun beat down upon them with an unwavering intensity and Elizabeth could feel sweat running down the back of her neck. Thorin brought the company to a halt behind a hill as the wargs got too close for comfort and they all waited. Each of them were braced to run, and Elizabeth wondered if they knew where they were running to. She was not an imbecile. She knew that Gandalf was leading them to Rivendell, and with danger on their heels, Thorin could not argue or even take the time to argue if he knew the wizard's plan. 

"Stay together," Gandalf's whispered, to the group behind him. "And that means everyone," he added, in for good measure. 

"Move!" Thorin ordered. 

Once again they were running. Elizabeth heart pounded in her chest, and she saw Radagast in the distance drive his sled beneath an overhanging projection of rock and ducked. The Orc on the warg behind him get knocked off. Thorin stepped the group behind a rock so that they would not be seen, and poor Ori kept running. 

"Ori, no!" Thorin reacted swiftly, and grasped the young dwarf by the scruff of his neck pulling him back. "Get back," he growled, and shoved the dwarf behind him. 

Tension coiled through her entire body as she stood there waiting, her eyes darting from Bilbo's back to Strider's then Arwen's. She had been in danger before. That was nothing new to her, and yet there was a sharp sense of dread that pierce through her like nothing she had ever experienced before. Before it had been just her in danger, and she dealt with it. Now, the people that she loved were in danger. Her hand tightened around her bow as her mind raced a mile a minute, that she barely registered Gandalf shouted, "Come on! Quick!" 

Thorin spared him a quick, narrowed eyed look. "Where are you leading us, wizard?" He demanded, darkly. 

Gandalf does not answer, only letting out an inaudible sigh. However, no one gets a chance to move as a shadow from above fell over them and everyone pressed against the outcropping to hide. Elizabeth pressed a hand against Bilbo's chest pushing him back, and the hobbit looked at her. She pressed her index finger to her lips, and gestured upward. Bilbo let out a tiny noise of distress before he pressed his lips together in a valiant effort to keep quiet. 

Thorin looked at Kili who stood to his right, and gave a slow nod. Kili let out a breath, and readied an arrow. Drawing his breath back in, Kili quickly stepped out and shot the warg. The warg and orc fall down almost on top of the dwarves, and Strider the closest to the orc buries his sword to the hilt through the orc's skull to silence it's squalling. Balin and Dwalin finish off the warg, but the damage had already been done. The roars and screams have drawn the action Radagast straight to company, and Elizabeth looked up to see the incoming danger. "Move! Move!" She shouted, her fingers twisting into the fabric of Bilbo's jacket to get him moving. "Run!" 

The Company lost all pretense of attempting to hide, and sprinted across the grassy plains as the Wargs begin to surround them from all sides. They get scarcely farther when they are halted in a clearing with Wargs on all sides. "Behind me, Bilbo," Elizabeth urged, notching an arrow and letting it fly. She knocked an orc right off it's warg and the warg let out a howl. 

"Kili! Shoot them!" Thorin ordered, Orcist drawn out at his side. His body was taunt and braced for a fight while Kili drew an arrow back. He was not the only one, Arwen was not one to stand idly about and while Strider stubbornly stood in front of her, she fired an arrow around him. Kili and Arwen's arrows brought down the riderless warg that rushed towards the group. The warg collapsed to the ground giving pitiful howls and biting at the arrows in it's chest and leg. 

"There's too many!" Elizabeth shouted. "We will not be able to take them all out with arrows!" 

Thorin growled, knowing the words she spoke were true. The battle was unavoidable now, they would have to fight their way through or die trying. 

"We're surrounded!" Fili stated, after he looked for some means of escape. 

"Where is Gandalf?" Bilbo asked. 

"He has abandoned us!" Dwalin growled. 

"He has not abandoned you," Arwen countered, with a hiss. "To the rock. Move towards the rock!" The dwarves didn't listen to the elf, and Arwen shook her head muttering unflattering things underneath her breath that had Strider grin despite the circumstances. Ori shots a rock at an orc with his slingshot, to no effect. His face dropped and he started to back away. 

"Hold your ground!" Thorin snarled. 

"We need to move!" Elizabeth shot him an incredulous look. "Did you not hear Arwen? Towards the rock! Move towards the rock!" 

As if summoned by her words, Gandalf popped up from a crack in the rock and glowered at them as if demeaning them all insane. "This way, you fools!" The wizard shouted. 

Thorin gave Elizabeth a glare as if all this were her fault before he ground his teeth together. "Come on, move! Quickly, all of you! Go, go, go!" 

This time the dwarves did not hesitate to rush towards the rock. One by one, the dwarves slid down into the large crack in the rock which lead to a cleverly hidden cave. Bilbo slid down with Bofur at his side. Strider wrapped his arms around Arwen who was still firing arrows and pulled her down into safety. 

"Lassie," Dwalin paused when he saw that Elizabeth had paused at the lip of the cave. 

Elizabeth gave him a look. "Go," she gave the order in a tone that gave no chance at refusal. "I will be down shortly, but not until every last one of you is safe first! So go!" 

Dwalin stared at her hard for a long moment, but he knew that no words or intimidation would make her stand down from her choice and he jumped down the whole. 

Thorin growled as he swung Orcist around and sliced through the belly of a warg that got too close. His stark blue eyes shot upward and he saw his nephew standing between him the sea of wargs and orcs. Something painful lodged into his chest where his heart was and he shouted, his face twisted into something akin to agony, "Kili! Run!" 

Kili fired one last arrow before he turned tail and ran. He jumped into the cave, and 

Thorin twisted around only to see Elizabeth still standing there. Her eyes met his and his hand reached out on it's own violation grasping her arm and the two of them jumped into the crack. Elizabeth hissed as they slid down the naturally sloped stone, and it was all too soon that they reached the bottom with jarring force that made her bones rattle. She almost fell to her knees if it were not for Thorin's grip on her arm, and she let out a shaky breath. The rest of the dwarves stood at the funnel of the cave, weapons still drawn prepared for the orcs to drop down any given moment when suddenly a horn echoed through the valley. 

Elizabeth jolted at the sound, recognizing it immediately. 

"Look out!" Dwalin called out. 

Elizabeth had just got out of the way when a orc's body came sliding down into the cave. To her relief it was dead, killed by a single arrow to the back. She ran her hand through her hair as Thorin torn the arrow out of the corpse's back and inspected the make of it. His lip curled upward in disdain, and he spat out, "Elves." 

Arwen's eyebrows lifted, but she refrained from saying anything. Strider threaded his fingers through her, a silent show of support. "Shall we?" He murmured, quietly. 

"We shall," Arwen gave an imperceptible nod. "Though you now what lies at the end of that tunnel will not be welcoming of us," she added, in a whisper. 

"I know," Strider nodded, his eyes stared upon her face with a wistful smile upon his lips. "We could not hide and run forever, Arwen. We would have to come back and face him eventually." 

Dwalin glared at the pair from the other side of the cave, his arms crossed over his chest and he looked over at Thorin. "Those two are conspiring together," Dwalin hissed, underneath his breath. "You mark my words." 

Suspicion moved over Thorin like a thundercloud, and he opened his mouth to concur when a hand landed on his chest. He blinked down at Elizabeth who pushed between the two of them with a flare of annoyance in her eyes. "No one is conspiring against you," Elizabeth shook her head at both of them. "You dwarves and your paranoia." 

Dwalin gave her a look as she moved past the group and headed down the tunnel. "Where do you think you are going, lassie?" He called out after her. 

"Down the path, Master Dwalin," Elizabeth said, her hands trembling at her sides. She knew it was not only shock or the fading of adrenaline that afflicted her. Her heart fluttered in her chest and an anxious feeling unfurled in the pit of her stomach. This must be what a runaway coming home felt like, she mused lightly. "Unless you have another way to go?" She glanced over her shoulder at him. 

"We follow it, of course!" Bofur waved a hand towards the tunnel with a look of exasperation upon his face. 

"Thank you!" Bilbo had a similar expression on his face, and hurried to catch up with Elizabeth. He had no desire to stand around and wait for something else to happen. He had felt completely flummoxed by the past two days and all he longed for was a moment to breath. 

Elizabeth made her way down the narrow way, her heart a heavy thing within her chest. It grew heavier and heavier until it was very hard to breath. She slid sideways when the passage grew narrower and she warned, "Be careful and watch your step. It's a little bit of a drop." 

Pressing her hands against the rock walls to steady herself, she stepped down and she could hear the echoes of complaints from the dwarves. If it had been a different time, she would have laughed or posed a joke. However, with the sinking sensation of guilt and dread rolled into her stomach. 

[ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/ezgif-3312865575_zpsykkz4f0z.gif.html)

The pathway eventually opened out into an open area filled with lush green grass and the sound of distance waterfalls. It is as beautiful as Elizabeth remembered as the warm breeze kissed her skin and the smell of the grass and pines teased her nose. An overwhelming feeling built up inside of her that she had no idea how to express, so she stood there like a statue standing down at the city of Rivendell that laid in the distance. There were no words adequate to describe the serenity or beauty of the valley. No words to do it justice to majesty peace of the evening sun that settled across perfectly sculpted archways and columns that not even the best Greek architect could come close to even dreaming let alone building. 

"The Valley of Imraldis." Gandalf stated, as the dwarves stopped and stared, awed despite themselves. The wizard had a mysterious twinkle in his eyes. "In the Common Tongue, it's known by a another name." 

"Rivendell," Bilbo whispered out, reverently. 

Elizabeth didn't know whether to laugh. 

Or to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER!
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER: More of Elizabeth's past is revealed. Elrond lays down the law with his children, but when asked will he wish to help dwarves? Or has he foreseen something that will hold him back? 
> 
> A LITTLE PREVIEW OF THINGS TO COME! 
> 
> [ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/giphy%2018_zpswagiopdh.gif.html)
> 
> LANGUAGES AND REFERENCES 
> 
> 1.) Spangaerea (elvish) Bearded ones 
> 
> 2.) Dôl gîn lost (elvish) Your head is empty 
> 
> Chapter Challenge: What does Aracala, Elizabeth's horse, represent?


	15. The Rivendell Reprieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omg, thank you all for all the bookmarks, kudos and comments. I really appreciate it. I'm glad that so many people love this story and I hope that it continues to be an enjoyable read! :D

CHAPTER FIFTEEN 

"The Rivendell Reprieve"

[](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/ch15hob_zpsuetyw0ib.png.html)

* * *

Rivendell 

2854, Third Age

Lord Elrond stood upon the great winding balcony and stared down at the great garden below. Elrond was many things, but nothing made him prouder than being a father. Even though his children were older, and had begun to create their own lives, he was still there father. It was no wonder why he had so easily taken in the child. She was a little lost soul that called to him, ever since he had seen the pain that plagued her mind. He watched her sit in the garden, isolated from the rest of Rivendell and even amongst the beauty of the Elven city, he could see the unrest within her gaze that grew more unnatural with each passing day. This would be a tedious affair, and one that Lord Elrond would gladly put behind him. Worries that laid heavily upon his shoulders, ones that he had hoped to cast away by gathering the White Council in Rivendell. 

A curse was upon the child, and his hope had been to decipher it to ease the agony within the child. However, the air was tight riddle with tension and Elrond stood there impassively as best he could. And he hoped that Galadriel would provide insight into the other mark upon the child, seeing deeper into than he. 

"Elizabeth?" Saruman asked, frowning. "That is the child's name?" 

"It was the one she gave, yes," Elrond inclined his head. 

"Elizabeth," Galadriel breathed out. "The Eru's Oath, a name that is more elvish than that of man's yet I sense no Eldar blood coursing through her veins." 

"But she has been marked by a higher power," Saruman commented, his dark brows furrowed. "And a darker one." 

"She has," Galadriel agreed, her ancient eyes watching as Elohir and Elladan try to pull the child out of her solitude. It did not take one as old as she to see the child was ill at ease, with her shoulders slightly hunched and arms crossed protectively around her stomach. Her eyes that grew more unnatural with the passing days, losing their emerald depths for veins of black, and blues and yellows. A mark had indeed be left on the child, but the purpose of it left Galadriel with a measure of dread within her heart. "A curse riddled with darkness has begun to corrode away at her very existence, slowly and calculating. This was no accident or mere whim of fate." 

"No, it was not," a figure in grey entered the cistern, and he pulled his pointed hat from atop his head. "But it was not meant to befall her, I believe." 

"Gandalf," Galadriel smiled fondly upon him. 

"Lady Galadriel," he addressed her for with a smile, and slight bow before he turned to Elrond. "Lord Elrond," he nodded at the elf, who inclined his head back. His eyes then turned to Saruman, who arched a brow. "Saruman," Gandalf huffed slightly before he drew his robes to the side so he could sit down at the table. "So, I hear that there has been an unexpected development?" 

"What do you know, Gandalf?" Saruman asked. 

"Only little more than you which is still next to nothing," Gandalf admitted, with a heavy sigh. "I spoke with the child. She is a bright girl, very clever, but very troubled." 

"Her troubles are not the concern, Gandalf," Saruman stated, with a put upon sigh. Elrond just gave him a quick sharp look before he looked down the balcony at the child in question. "What the concern is how she came to be." 

"Well, Saruman, certainly you have heard, what is the phrase men use, the birds and the bees?" Gandalf said, with an all too innocent smile. Lady Galadriel gracefully twisted away from the pair before the amusement glittering in herself gave her away while Saruman gave Gandalf a flat look. The grey wizard relented, wishing he could smoke his pipe. Some old Toby would calm his nerves. "While I spoke with the child, as best as I could with her wariness and the language difficulties, I tried to find the source to the curse, for every curse and spell has a residual aspect of the caster left behind. A marker if you will." 

"And what did you find?" Galadriel asked. 

"I do not know the maker, but I know the intent behind the curse. It was not meant for the girl," Gandalf stated, with a deep frown upon his face. "It was meant for Alatar and Pallando." 

"The _Ithryn Luin_?" Elrond looked shocked. "But they have not been heard of since they traveled East to weaken the forces of the Dark Lord. They were never seen again, and believed to have fallen against Sauron." 

"That was the way of it, and yet you've only began to scratch the surface," Gandalf shook his head. "I believe that they found themselves against a darkness that they could not defeat on their own and sought a way of refuge. They fled from this world to find safety in another." 

"You cannot honestly believe such a fanciful tale, Gandalf," Saruman scoffed, in disbelief. 

"I can and I do," Gandalf rose up in his chair, his spine stiff and a graveness to his features. "Alatar was known for his search for other worlds, it is my belief that he found a way to another world, but in doing so sealed their fate. This curse was meant for their return." 

"That does not explain the child," Elrond pointed out, carefully. "If this curse was meant for the Blue Wizards, why would it have befallen the girl?" 

"It would explain it…" Gandalf commented, a bit hesitant upon his part. "If the blood of Istar flowed through her veins." 

Saruman stood, his expression thunderous. "That is blasphemous and it is forbidden," he stated, his voice gravelly with outrage. Each wizard sworn to guide the races of Middle Earth, for all intense and purposes were men. They felt all urges, such as the pleasures and fears of flesh and blood. It was agreed that in order to not fall into temptation like many before them. That they would swear oaths that they would live by, one being they would live a life apart from such things so they could continue to serve Middle Earth to the best of their abilities. "The child should not exist." 

"Perhaps in your eyes, but not in mine. Exist she does," Gandalf stated, his expression pinched. "And she will continue to do so if I have any say in the matter." 

Saruman's eyes darkened, but Galadriel stepped forward. "She will," the Lady said, her eyes very solemn as she took in the scene before her. "I have seen it." The finality in her tone made the argument come to a swift end as well as the meeting and Saruman left in a flurry of white robes and no one would honestly say that he was missed. 

Gandalf's eyes were solemn and dark in thought. "For what purpose, only time can tell that. All I know is that, Elizabeth's world is a world without magic and now that magic is coursing through her veins it is not a likely chance she will be able to return," Gandalf stated, shifting slightly to where he faced Elrond head on. 

Elrond let out a sigh, his dark eyes filled with sympathy for the young child. "Her very existence could very well unweave the tapestry of destiny, if it hasn't already. There will be those who will sense that, some who might already known of her existence and some who will try to use her, Gandalf." 

"Then," Gandalf offered as a rebuttal, "we must prepare her as best we can for all the challenges she may face." Elrond sighed, and Gandalf sent him a sympathetic smile. "I understand your concerns and your fears, my friend, because I know them too. But I have see this child's heart, and it is strong. Her story whatever it will bring is not one about death…but I believe one about life." 

"Then there is hope for the child? A way to end the fate that has befallen her?" Elrond questioned, turning away from the balcony and his brown gaze fell upon Gandalf who sat in a chair with a heavy sigh. 

"There is always hope," Gandalf stated, pulling his hat from a top of his head and laid it into his lap. "The curse was not meant to be survived, but survived it she has. How or why? I only have guesses that need further investigation. And all curses can be broken, but if you mean to ask if I have all the answers…well, I do not." 

"That does not mean they cannot be found," Lady Galadriel stated, softly. "The blessing of Aüle rests upon the child's heart, though to what end is not yet known and it has given her the strength to endure as the very mountains themselves." 

"Yet even mountains can crumble," Elrond stated, a heavy furrow in his brow as he took measured steps forward. His gaze dark with many thoughts. 

"There is no greater power than she has already," Galadriel stated, with a patient smile. "Don't you see how strong it is? The very earth wishes to nurture her, the world shifted destinies to accept her as it's own and she has got through the world, barefooted as she is long before our paths entangled with hers. She cannot receive any power from me greater than she now has, which consist of the innocence in her heart. If she cannot break this curse herself, and remove the dark fragments of the curse, there is no one else who can." 

"There is one thing we can do," Gandalf said, running a hand down his face wearily. 

"We can prepare her for what she may face. She will need a guide through this world, one to educate her and one to shelter her and one to heal her." The Grey Wizard looked towards Lord Elrond who stood by his hands clasped behind his back. "Will Rivendell continue to offer her sanctuary?" Gandalf inquired, even though he already knew the answer. "Or will we have to find somewhere else for her to be kept?" 

"She will stay." Lord Elrond decision had already been settled in his heart and thus, Elizabeth became Lord Elrond's ward. 

* * *

2941, Third Age 

Rivendell

Elizabeth stood stock still, standing over Rivendell like some hidden guardian while she hear the discontent wash over the Company once it was revealed where exactly they were. In a different time, she would have found it all amusing, but with the agonizing knot twisting and churning in the pit of her stomach. Her face was suspiciously blank, void of any emotion or thought that she was feeling or thinking. Her hands were curled into trembling fists at her side as trepidation flooded through her from head to toe. 

[ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/giphy%2021_zpshom6smor.gif.html)

Thorin, too, stood there however he was practically trembling with rage and he turned burning eyes onto the wizard as his upper lip curled. "So this is what your plan was all along," his voice hard and filled with diversion. "To seek refuge with our enemy." 

Many displeased grunts and whispers spread through the disgruntled company and the wizard heaved a sigh while casting his eyes upward for a moment silently asking Eru for the strength to deal with the fools. 

"You will find no enemies here," Arwen interjected, holding herself with all the grace and regality. Her expression was genially, and she did not even bat an eye at the many dark looks that were sent her way by the dwarves. 

"Hospitality to travelers is one of the First Born's most sacred of duties and the Last Homely House will not turn you away," Strider added, his voice firm. "Not when you are so desperately in need of aid." 

Thorin bit back a retort for where was such courtesy when he watched his city and home burn down? Where was it when they traveled weak and weary on the road to be starved or attacked or worse? The Dwarf King looked at the pair in a long silence, his lips thinned out with his displeasure. "Forgive me if I hold no faith in your words," Thorin said, his voice sharp and cutting. "I have seen no hint of hospitality from the fairer race, and I do not expect any now." 

Strider bristled, and only Arwen's hand coming to rest gently on his arm kept him from lashing out at the dwarf. "Then Rivendell shall endeavor to change your mind," Arwen stated, diplomatically. If it was one thing that the First Born excelled out, it was patience and with dwarves, much patience was required. 

"Shall we?" Strider inquired. 

Arwen inclined her head, and the pair walked down the path not bothering to look back and see if the dwarves would follow or not. As they passed Elizabeth, Arwen gave her a smile while Strider gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before they left her to her own devices. Elizabeth watched the pair for a long moment before she let her shoulders slump and ran her fingers through her hair tiredly. 

"They speak no false truths, Thorin Oakenshield," Gandalf finally spoke upward. 

"You have no enemies here and the only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself." 

Thorin would not allow himself to be intimidated. "You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing?" His voice a low and rough whisper. "They will try to stop us." 

"Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered and the Lord of the Valley is known for his wisdom and knowledge, there is no one else better equipped in all of Middle Earth to answer the questions we have. Though to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me," Gandalf arched an eyebrow, with a touch of smugness to his smile and then he brushed past King in Exile without another glance. 

Elizabeth's eyes flickered to the wizard for a brief second before she looked back down at Rivendell, and ran a hand down her face as the throbbing in her temples became worse. It was a suffocating feeling Suddenly a hand clasped around her arm and she found herself whirled around. "Did you know?" Thorin demanded, with all the presence of a thundercloud. He seemed to tower over her though there was only an inch or two difference between their heights. 

"What?" She startled. 

"Did you know of this? Did you know the wizard intended to lead us here?" Thorin asked, a dangerous edge to his voice. 

Words failed her. Elizabeth's lips parted, but no sound was uttered from them then she ducked her down as a guilt flush flared up on her cheeks. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed thickly and stared into his eyes. "Yes…I knew," Elizabeth admitted, softly. There was tightness in the back of her throat that threatened to strangle her voice. "I trusted that Gandalf knew what he was doing. I did not mean to deceive you in such a way." 

"Did you not?" Thorin commented, his voice nonchalant yet callous at the same time as his eyes narrowed into a glare. "Perhaps deceit was not the intent, but it was done nonetheless. At least now, I know where your loyalties lie." 

Elizabeth jarred back as if physically struck as her heart plummeted into her stomach leaving her feeling very ill. Thorin released her hand and she saw a dark emotion flash across his face before he turned his back on her. "Follow the wizard," he ordered, gruffly. Elizabeth watched the dwarves with a sinking feeling in her heart and her eyes slid closed, her fingers ran across her forehead before they slid into her hair. A visible tremble ran across her jaw and guilt gnawed at her stomach. Drawing a deep breath and steeling her resolve, she reopened her eyes and started to follow the group. So many emotions lashed through her, and to be honest, she had never been good with emotions. 

Bilbo was beside her, his eyes trying to take in everything at once and he knew now why his mother spoke of this place so recently. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life, and he felt the hard of edge of panic begin to slowly ebb away. 

The sunset cast a fiery glow upon everything it touched, and Rivendell was lit up in an ethereal light. It only seemed to add the ethereal feel of the entire place. Butterflies dances along the breezes as flowers swayed beneath the open sky and the faint twinkle of stars could be seen. It was one of two domains build by elves that had been left untouched by the darkness, a safe haven in which one could seek refuge in the bliss and beauty that encompassed all that was Rivendell. Elizabeth could feel something stir upon the wind, as if the very valley itself was welcoming her back with open arms and it was a nice lie, she mused, at that. 

She did not know what reception she would receive. Would it be welcoming? She did not think they would turn her away, but she did know that it would not be a simple stay either. They crossed the bridge to where the group had gathered in front of the great stairs that lead into Rivendell. Elizabeth stayed to the back of the group, shamelessly using the dwarves to keep out of sight for as long as possible. Elizabeth noted with a measure of surprise that Arwen and Strider had lingered there as well. 

A dark-haired elf flowed down the stairs draped in a golden robe and a gentle frown upon his face though his features smoothed out once his eyes landed upon Gandalf. 

"Mithrandir," he greeted, his voice musical and light. " _Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo!"_ He stopped short when his eyes fell upon Arwen and shock flashed through his eyes. _"Lady Arwen, mankoi naa lle sinome? From my understanding you were on your way to join Lady Galadriel in the Golden Woods."_

"Plans change, Lindir," Arwen commented, airily. To everyone who did not know the elf so well would never have detected the slight hesitation in her voice. Elizabeth however knew the elven maiden better and saw right through her composed façade. 

Thorin watched the exchange through eyes filled with wariness and distrust. His hand rested on the hilt of his blade, and he said, underneath his breath to Dwalin, "Stay sharp." 

Dwalin gave a stiff nod, a scowl upon his face. 

Lindir clearly did not know what to make of the lady's response, or Estel's presence's beside her and turned towards the wizard. _"Lastannem i athrannedh i Vruinen,"_ he commented, quietly. He looked curious with a hint of disdain at the large group of dwarves for he could not think of any reason for them to be in Rivendell. 

"Indeed. I have come to seek counsel from Lord Elrond over most urgent matters," Gandalf told Lindir, with a slight incline of his head. "Will you please let him know that we are here?" 

"My lord Elrond is not here," Lindir said, regretfully. 

"Not here?" Gandalf looked stunned. "Where is he?" 

Before Lindir could answer, the sound of Elvish horn echoed loudly over the hushed valley and the Company whirls around to see a group of armed horsemen rushing towards them at an alarming speed. _"Ifridî bekâr!"_ Thorin barked out, drawing his sword out. "Hold ranks!" 

The dwarves pulled themselves into a tight circle formations and Elizabeth found herself shoved into the circle along with Bilbo. A strange noise welled up in her throat, a bubbling laughter at the absurdity of it all and then inexplicably the next moment, she was dizzy. She reached out to steady herself only to pull back her hand as if she had just been seared by dragon's fire when she realized the person she had unconsciously leaned on was Thorin. Her eyes caught his for a split second, but it was only a moment for his attention was immediately drawn to the mounted elves who rode in circles around the dwarves. 

Elizabeth idly wondered if this was a tactic of intimidation, or if the elves used it as a reason to break the tedium. Elizabeth felt that is just made the spell of dizziness that swept over her worse as the dwarves teetered around her as the elves rode in circle after circle. She was ever so grateful when the elves came to a stop then her heart leapt into her throat when she saw one elf separate himself from the group that held the dwarves surrounded. The instinct to call out, _"Ada"_ was one hard to hold back, but by some strength of will she managed to keep her silence. A shuddering breath ripped through her and she felt a quaking sensation begin in the soles of her feet before slowly shooting upward her legs towards the rest of her body. 

Elrond was just as she remembered with an ageless wisdom to his face, deeming him neither young nor old though upon it was the memory of many things both glad and sorrowful. His circlet of silver shining in the sunset like a halo, and was a shocking contrast to his dark hair. His grey swept over the company and Elizabeth ducked behind Thorin, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt Thorin stiffened, and could feel the weight of his gaze as he craned his head to peer over his shoulder at her. A silent question in his gaze that she left unanswered. 

"Gandalf," Lord Elrond said, his voice polite and composed ever like the mask of indifferent upon his face. His eyes paused upon Arwen and Estel, a twinge of displeasure crinkled on the edges of his eyes. It was clear that there would much discussion later, and none of it pleasant. His armor crimson and silver had a glossy sheen as he got off his mount. He made a gesture with his hand, a silent order for his soldiers on their way. The elven warriors rode off, one pausing only a moment to lead Lord Elrond's horse away, too. 

Gandalf gave a benign smile as he bowed gracefully. "Lord Elrond. _Mellonnen! Mo evínedh?"_ Gandalf asked, sweeping his hand off from atop of his head. 

_"Farannem 'lamhoth i udul o charad. Dagannem rim na Iant Vedui."_ Elrond replied, an eyebrow quirked upward with a subtle hint of a smile upon his face. He then walked forward to embrace Gandalf in a brief hug, and when he pulled back he commented, "Strange for orcs to come so close to our , or someone, has drawn them near." He removed an orc blade from his waist to show it to everyone before he handed it off to Lindir, who turned a bit green at having to hold it. 

"Ah," Gandalf admitted, a tad sheepish, "that may have been us." 

Thorin let his gaze flicker between the pair before he made the decision to step forward, and he frowned when Lord Elrond looked upon him with a light of recognition in his gaze. "Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain," Lord Elrond greeted him, neutrally. Thorin held the gaze steadily, he refused to be cowed. Especially not by an elf. "I do not believe we have met," Thorin stated, his voice strong and unwavering. 

"You have your grandfather's bearing," Elrond commented, genially. "I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain." 

[ ](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/tumblr_miftkcNdXk1s5z745o1_r1_500%201_zpsvi6zuweo.gif.html)

"Indeed?" Thorin tilted his head, his blue eyes scrutinizing and his tone one of cool politeness. "He made no mention of you." 

Lord Elrond just stared at Thorin for a hard moment, before he spoke in Sindarin. _"Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin."_

The dwarves knew next to nothing of Sindarin, save perhaps for Ori who would need to know such things for he was a scribe. The Company bristled, assuming they had been insulted and Gloin has no problem in airing such assumptions. "What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?" Gloin demanded, hotly. 

Bellicose was the only way to describe the Company in that moment, and Elizabeth could practically feel their tempers rising. "For Eru's sake," she blurted out, heatedly. She was far too tired and in too much pain to deal with anymore of their stubbornness. "No, Mister Gloin, he is offering you food." 

It was only a half a second later that Elizabeth realized her outburst had drawn Elrond's attention straight to her. He looked at her with a furrow in her noble and proud brow as if he half did not believe his eyes. Elizabeth's mouth closed with a snap, and she felt at a complete loss at what to do as the dwarves discussed the offer of food amongst themselves. Her heart pounded in her chest as he stared at her, saying nothing and his lips were pulled down into a stern frown. It was amazing how one look from him made her suddenly feel like a child once more and her lips twitched up in an attempt at a smile. 

"Hello, Ada," she greeted the Lord of the Last Homely House. 

She felt the sting of tears enter her eyes and inwardly cursed herself for such a childish reaction. But how could she not feel such an emotion? Elizabeth shared a bond with Elrond that she shared with no other. The reality of the horrors she had endured as a child was known only to him in great detail for he had been her healer, determined to nurse her back to health himself and that was something she desperately tried to repay him for. When he went from a healer to the role of father, she knew that she would never be able to repay or thank him enough for that. 

"Aldanniel," Elrond's expression seemed to soften before his mouth formed an impassive line. "The Thane of Rivendell has returned," he stated, and his tone was impassive not reveal any of his emotion. His dark eyes immediately latched onto the discoloration of her face and a concerned frowned tugged downward at his lips. "You are wounded." 

"Wounded and weary," Elizabeth struggled to keep her voice steady. Her pulse thumped in her throat, and she drew in a breath before she was able to meet Elrond's gaze once more. "Is there by any chance a healer available? I know that I am not the only one injured, and all of us are tired and hungry though it might be best if we got a chance to freshen up before we ate. Being chased by orcs does not leave one in the most presentable conditions," Elizabeth said, her mouth clicking shut after the last word. She had said it all on one breath and without pause. 

"Indeed," Gandalf concurred, slightly amused. "A chance for a bit of reprieve before we dine, and a chance for us to catch up," he sent a meaningful look at Elrond. 

Elrond stood stationary, like a statue in a way that only elves seemed capable of before he inclined his head in a stately nod. "Very well," he intoned, his voice deep and serious. "Lindr, please set about preparing some chambers as well as the bathing area for our guests. Is it prudent to assume that you will wish to stay in your usual housing, Aldanniel?" Elrond inquired, his eyebrow arched. 

Elizabeth hesitated. She had expected anger. She had expected a cool reception, but Elrond gave no hint of such emotions. "If…if that is not a problem," Elizabeth stated, demurely. "And perhaps, the dwarves could rest there as well." She saw the shock flash through his gaze, only for a second, but she caught it. _"I do not think that they would want to be separated. They do not trust the First Born, and my housing is secluded enough from the other housing and that may give them a measure of comfort,"_ she explained, her cheeks hot. Her reasoning was sound, though her motives behind them were not entirely pure as they were selfish. She felt the searing heat of Thorin's suspicious glare on the back of her head, but she did not acknowledge it. Elizabeth figured that if the dwarves stayed with her at her housing, which could more than accommodate them, then more peace of mind she would be given. 

And peace of mind was something that would be hard to find in the next few days, she had no doubt about that. 

* * *

The walls were simply and white with intricate designs etched into the white stone. The faint musty smell wafted off the bookshelves and the familiarity of it all was soothing despite the rolling anxiety in the pit of her stomach. It was Elrond's study, and Elizabeth had been here many times before. Most often than not getting a lecture. 

Elizabeth allowed herself to be led here by Arwen, though she longed for nothing more than a feather bed to sink into. The dwarves had politely, or as politely as they could when dealing with elves, declined any healing for they had Oin and were in no need of the elves help as it was put. 

There was a bit of reluctance parting with the company. Fear of them getting themselves into trouble, or the fear of facing her family, she did not know. She sat up the edge of the chair after she had striped herself of her armor (with help from Arwen after the elf had declared Elizabeth was horrible at procrastinating only with fancier words). 

Her tunic was loose, hanging off her small frame and she glanced around the room with a deep frown. What words would be traded? Would they be of glad tidings or of disappointment? "Your thoughts are too loud," Arwen stated, after a moment. Her blue eyes, the color of the endless night, peered into Elizabeth with an insight that many did not have. 

"They have to be loud," Elizabeth said, waspishly. "In order to here them over yours." She inclined her right eyebrow slightly and looked at the elf maiden busied herself by making a some tea. "It seems that we both have a lot on our minds." 

A moment passed in silence between them. "Elizabeth," Arwen went to break it. A somberness to her expression. "How are you truly fairing?" She asked, softly. 

Arwen always did have a way of seeing right through Elizabeth, and it was admittedly a good question. It took Elizabeth several moments to mull over the question before she could summon up an answer. Looking up at Arwen, deciding that there was no need for pretense, she answered honestly, "Wary, and frightened." 

"Wary and frightened?" Arwen managed a small smile. "I imagined you to be fearless, just as you were when you were a child. I remember you climbing up the tree outside father's study and when you fell…we were all so scared. Erestor thought it would teach you a lesson, but as soon as you were well, you were back up that tree." Arwen whispered out, "You were always the intrepid one, and no one could ever change that." 

"Not for lack of trying," Elizabeth remembered the many times that she had Erestor and her father look like their were about to pull the hair off their heads. It put a fond smile on her lips. 

"No, not for lack of trying," Arwen smiled softly. "I mourn for the years we lost. So few years may appear to be a mere blink of the eyes in an elf's eyes, but for some reason it felt longer. You were dearly missed, even if Ada has trouble expressing it." 

"It's not your fault," Elizabeth didn't know why she felt the need to placate her sister, but she did. "I'm the one who ran away." 

"Indeed." Arwen sighed after a moment. "Estel told me what you said. If…" Her blue eyes were troubled. "If you ever felt that you weren't welcome here in these halls—" 

Emotions clogged Elizabeth's throat and for a minute she couldn't speak. "What do you want me to say Arwen? That I'm angry? That I blame you? Or that you are somehow at fault? You are not. None of you are. Rivendell and all inhabitants have always been kind and welcoming to me. I do not think there is any other place better than Rivendell I could have ever found to be raised, or a better elf to be raised by." Elizabeth made the reassurance in a firm, unwavering tone. "It is not the fault of any of you. The fault lies firmly upon my shoulders." 

Arwen made a noise—similar to a sigh, but not quite in the back of her throat before she delicately handed Elizabeth the cup full of tea. "Here," Arwen said, softly. "This should help soothe your aches and pains. I shall prepare a warm bath and have someone fetch you an actually gown." 

"I like my armor," Elizabeth stated, with a grateful look at Arwen for the tea. She sipped very gingerly for it was still quite hot and would scald her mouth if she was not careful. She silently wondered what the dwarves were up to. No doubt scandalizing the elves, and causing trouble. The thought made him smile though she felt bad for anyone who would fall into their warpath. 

"It is not appropriate attire to wear to dinner," Arwen stated, loftily though there was a hint of a smile on the edge's of her lips. "Besides, given the circumstance in which brought you back here it may be for the best if you present yourself accordingly." 

Elizabeth sighed, but gave no argument. Arwen took that as a sign of victory and swept out of the room leaving Elizabeth alone. She sat still for several moment before she rose to her feet and paced the length of the floor nervously. Her thoughts were scattered and hard to pin down, while she twisted her fingers together nervously. 

Rivendell, like the Shire, came the closest to feeling like home. And yet, Elizabeth could not fight the sense of not belonging. A human that walked amongst the elves, that moved timelessly with them, but in the end she was not one of them. She came to a halt in front of the desk when a piece of parchment nabbed her eyes. The familiar and flourished script was one that could only belong to one elf and that was Erestor. Before she could stop herself, Elizabeth found herself reading the letter. 

_Lord Elrond,_

_I wish that I could send word of better news, but I fear that I cannot. You asked for a detailed description of my experience of Gondor these past few weeks and the dealings with the Steward's family. I fear I must be frank, old friend, that things are not well in Gondor. Steward is a honest man and his loyalty to the Kings of Old unmatched. He has great optimism that one day he will greet the heirs to Isiuldur's throne, and see a king wear the crown once more. He had even sent emissaries in search of Isildur's descendants. However, there is those who would not have the crown upon a King once more. The Steward's own son, Denethor, bears ill will against the Dunedain line. During one of the council meetings, that Steward allowed me to attend, it was all to clear that Denethor would rather have the crown himself than only be a Steward to the people. I fear that if anyone came into knowledge of Estel before he is ready to claim the throne, then his life would be in grave danger. It would be best to caution his away traveling near Gondor for the time being, lest anyone get suspicious of his heritage like last time._

_Yours in confidence,_

_Erestor_

"That is not for you," a calm voice came from behind her. 

She jumped, and whirled around. Her expression one of guilt, and she bowed her head as Elrond stared down at her. He was no longer draped in armor and had traded it in for a golden attire that flowed silently behind him. "Ada," Elizabeth gasped, her eyes widened. She looked at him then the parchment that she had been reading before her face turned red with a guilty flush. "I did not mean to…" She began, but Elrond cut her off with a wave of his hand. 

"You did mean to," Elrond corrected her, a grave look in his eyes. His stern expression softened ever so slightly. "I have to admit I have gotten lazy with putting my things away," the Elf Lord strode around her, and gracefully picked up his parchments and letters stacking them neatly before he slid them into a drawer out of sight. "It has been a long time since I had to hide my letters and books from a pair of curious wandering eyes." 

Two pink stains appeared on both of her cheeks for two different reason. One at being caught noising around and for at the reminder of how long she had been away from Rivendell. "My apologies," she said, nervously clasping her hands in front of her. "It truly was not my intention to pry. I let my curiosity get the best of me." 

"As if often does," Elrond commented, as he gestured for her to reclaim her seat. "It is no matter. I doubt that the contents of that letter are ones you would share," the Lord stated, with an arched brow. 

"They aren't," Elizabeth reassured him, quickly and firmly. "I would never betray you and Estel in such a way." 

Elrond went still for a brief moment before he inclined his head. "I never thought you would," he said, seriously. He walked right up to her, and grasped her chin carefully. His brown eyes peered down intently at the wounds on her face. "Now, let's see," he murmured, his other hand gingerly checked her bruises. The pressure his fingers against her skull made her flinch with a pitiful whine in the back of her throat that she couldn't restraint. He kept diligent despite the protests and flinches. "Hmm. There is a great amount of swelling, but I feel no fractures." He then checked her shoulders and back which also took the brunt force of the tree. "Some bruising salve to take care of the swelling and discoloration. I see no reason that this cannot heal on it's own." 

His clinical professionalism made Elizabeth's stomach clench with worry. No anger or disappointment was apparent on his face, but she knew it must be there somewhere. "Arwen can aid you in putting on the salve after you bathe before supper though I would do so with haste. The dwarves have already saw fit to bathe in the fountain," Elrond stated, archly. 

Elizabeth choked on a startled laugh then looked at Elrond with a demure expression when he arched a brow. She fought to not to squirm underneath that all knowing stare, and found many things upon her lips. An apology, an explanation, but neither passed through her lips. Her eyes turned sorrowful as an ache welled up in her heart and she wished that by some grace of Eru that she could explain herself. Some words that would explain all that she felt, to be able to express the reason why she fled Rivendell all those years ago, but in that moment she had nothing. Her throat felt tight and she blinked her eyes rapidly in an effort to keep any and all tears at bay. "Then I shall endeavor to hurry," Elizabeth assured him, her voice barely more than a whisper. 

* * *

If it were not for the sense of diplomacy engrained into him by Balin and the fact that the Company sorely need a reprieve given all that they had been through, then Thorin would have openly expressed his outrage with no qualms with whom it would offend. He ,however, held himself with a cool composure as he was lead to a building to bathe and prepare for dinner. In the courtyard below, he caught sight of his company making use of the fountain to bathe and he did not even admonish them for such behavior. Normally he would not tolerate such behavior from his men in another's halls, but he did not care much for elves nor for the underhanded way the wizard had brought them here so he would allow it just this once. 

He made use of the bathing area, scrubbing himself and his armor clean before he put back on his attire. He ignored the robes that had been left for him, his lip curled at the thought of wearing the frilly white robes that the elves so loved. No, he wore his silver armor and blue tunic for they were his colors and the colors of Erebor. He would not present himself as anything less than what he was and that was the future King of Erebor. He knew despite his dislike of the elves, he had to bear it all with a diplomatic grace. He made his way out of the door with his head held high and found Balin lingering in the hallway waiting upon him. The elf, Lindir, stood at hand to escort them to the dining area and by the gloomy look plastered to the elf's face he considered it anything, but a pleasure. 

The venture to the Elven court was entirely unpleasant. There were eyes on him, whether or imagined, and Thorin feels the tension tighten in the back of his neck. There is nothing more than to leave this place, but he reluctantly admits that they do need the help. So he bit back his pride for the sake of the quest, Thorin squared his shoulders and marched onward. He finds that the rest of the Company have already been seated around tables in the Elven court, and eating though they were not very appreciative of the food. 

Beautiful harp music floated into his ears, and Thorin reluctantly admired the craftsmanship displayed in all the things around him. One did not need to be elven to admire the way the arches captured the evening sun's light. 

Elvish halls may hold grace and elegance, but Thorin will always find the halls underneath the mountain, the ones carved by his people far more beautiful than anything else in Middle Earth. The long winding passage ways, carved with the utmost care that told their history from the beginning when Mahal crafted them out of stone. He remembered the glint of gold and silver running through the mountain like never ending roots. Being led through Rivendell was a bitter reminder that they were always guests, never truly belonging. It was a long time since Thorin felt that so keenly, and it made him curse Gandalf once more. He sat down at the head of the table, not indication of his ire upon his face. 

Instead he politely inclined his head towards Lindir proving that all of Balin's lesson did indeed have some merit. He raised an eyebrow at all the vegetables and green that covered the table and resisted the urge to snort at the so called elvish hospitality as he was lead to the head table where he would patiently wait until Lord Elrond arrived. 

"Try it. Just a mouthful," Dori urged his little brother to try the food though it did come off a bit hypocritical when he hadn't even touched his own food. 

Ori just shook his head slowly, holding a piece of lettuce at eye level. "I don't like green food," he said, dropping the piece back into the bowl. 

Dwalin's large hand dipped into his bowl and pulled up all the leaves. He eyed the bowl with a heavy frown before he dropped all of the food back down in it and demanded, "Where's the meat?" 

Oin held up a vegetable with his knife, with a look of pure disgust on his face while Ori asked if they had any chips. Elrond and Gandalf walk through the halls of Rivendell. 

"Kind of you to invite us," Gandalf trailed behind the lord, with a half smile upon his face. "I'm not really dressed for dinner." 

"Well, you never are," Elrond retorted. The pair shared a quick laugh as they passed an elf maiden played a flute, and entered the courtyard. Thorin rose to his feet when Elrond arrived at the table, and Lord Elrond gave him a benign smile. "I welcome you the grandson of Thror in the name of his own eminent and treasured ancestors. Please be seated," Lord Elrond gestured for him to reclaim his seat while he settled into the cathedra. "I feel that there is much we have to discuss." 

"Indeed," Thorin sat back in the chair. 

Gandalf took the one of Lord Elrond's left. "More pressing matters can wait until the mind and body have been rested," the wizard suggested, calmly. "Let us make ease, and discuss more simpler things such as the weapons we found in the Troll cave." 

"What of them?" Thorin asked, archly. Though he loathed to use an elvish blade, it would serve him well and he was not a fool to part with it. 

"Lord Elrond is renowned for his knowledge," Gandalf spared him a sharp look. "It would not be remiss to let him examine the blades to know fully of their origins." 

Thorin reluctantly allowed Lord Elrond take his blade. The elf stroke the edge of the blade delicately, admiring the beauty of the weapon as well as the skill it took to craft it. 

"This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin," Lord Elrond finished his assessment and held the blade back to Thorin. "May it serve you well." 

Thorin accepted it with a nod. Elrond turned to examine Gandalf's prize from the hoard, and examined it. "And this Glamdring, the Foe-hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for the wars of the First Age…" He cast a glance in Gandalf's direction. "How did you come by these?" 

"We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs," Gandalf explained, his hands clasped together in front of him. Elrond frowned at the mention of the Great East Road, but said nothing. Instead, he commented that he believed that it was likely that the Trolls raided other hoards or caves in the mountain to have been able to come by the weapons. There much of the mountains that were still a mystery which made crossing them all the more dangerous. Thorin had let himself drift, only half listening as Gandalf and Elrond prattled on when his eyes fell upon her. 

Thorin went utterly still in his chair at the sight of Elizabeth Morgan. He felt shock ripple across him as his gaze drank in every detail of her as she crossed through the threshold with a small smile upon her face. He had always known that Elizabeth was a woman. However, he had been able to appreciate that fact that she was a warrior as well. 

Even during the troll debacle, when she had landed on top of him he had known her for a warrior because despite the warmth and curves of her body, her armor reminded him of that. She bore no armor now, had traded it in for a white satin dress with golden trimming along the bodice that enhanced the graceful curve of her spine. The creamy swell of her breast above the bodice to the delicate arch of her throat where her long hair hung down feel and unbound with pearls weaved through the long waves that stopped midway down her back. He could hear the roar of blood rush past his ears and his mouth felt parched the longer he looked at her. 

"It seems the ladies have finally felt it time to grace us with their presence," Gandalf said, with a twinkle in his eyes at the dumbstruck Thorin. 

Elizabeth stood there in the threshold, her hands smoothing the front of her gown free of imaginary wrinkles. Powder concealed what it could of her bruises, while the rest of her had been done up to look nothing less than a lady. It was strange how silent Rivendell's halls were given the fact that elves waltzed up and down them. It was a bit unnerving, Elizabeth had quite forgotten how soundless elves moved. Her footsteps had sounded like horse's hooves in comparison and it made her feel self-conscious underneath all the stares from many familiar faces. 

"It has been quite some time that I have been stuck in a dress," Elizabeth mused, lightly. The dining area was a large circular patio with a balcony view of the waterfalls and the sound of harp music brought back many fond memories for Elizabeth. She could not stop the smile that stretched across her face when some of the elves came to say hello, and she greeted them all with polite words and hugs, much to the dwarves' consternation. 

"Just not right," Dori murmured, or perhaps it was Nori. Elizabeth just spared them a smile, not taking their words to heart. 

Arwen arched a brow. "You have no notion of how fortunate you truly are, Elizabeth. As the Thane of Rivendell, you are unhindered by the rules of Society. You may do and say whatever you wish. You can associate with the rakes you prefer and marry whomever you like. I, however..." She paused and shot a glance at Estel whom lingered all across of the room. It was as if a great canyon stood between them with no means of ever crossing it. Lowering her voice, Arwen continued, "Am destined to do whatever I'm told." 

There was no lie in Arwen's word. As merely a ward of Rivendell and to Lord Elrond, Elizabeth was afforded a freedom that other women in a station similar to a Thane's did not enjoy. She was free to travel, and associate with whomever she pleased with less scrutiny upon her choices. Elizabeth offered a quick commiserating smile and patted her hands gently. "I know that it may seem that the entire world stands between you and him and perhaps in ways it does. However, I do not believe all is for naught, Arwen. Even as a child he gravitated towards you as if you were the sun and he were the moon. As he grew, that connection between you matured and changed. Your two souls are connected in a way that only the Valar understand, and from my understanding they do nothing without a reason." 

"Wise words," Arwen noted, only marginally surprised. "I can see more care and wisdom in your eyes than you carried before. The visible toll the years take on you can only be found there." 

"The years take tolls in other ways," Elizabeth admitted, with a self-deprecating grin. "But they have not hindered me yet." 

"May they never," Arwen said, with a genuine smile. Gandalf and to her great surprise, Thorin. Elizabeth assumed it was a matter of pride and honor rather than a want to be there. "This is where I leave you," Arwen whispered, quietly. "Good luck." 

Good luck with whom? Elizabeth asked, silently as Arwen drifted away from her side. With Thorin? Or with Ada? Thorin thought she had betrayed them, and in a sense she supposed she did. A little frown appeared on her face as she settled into a seat in-between of Bilbo and Fili, the latter whom held out the chair for her. "Thank you," she murmured, gratefully. She was pleased to see that some of the dwarves did indeed have manners. She eyed the group for a silent moment before she arched a brow. "So…I heard a little rumor that you all enjoyed the fountain here greatly," she commented, with a wry half smile. 

"The elves insisted we bathe," Nori rolled his shoulders, leaning back in his chair. "We were only doing as we were told." 

"You mean you were doing you're version of what you were told. A great number of elves were scandalized and there has been nothing, but talk about the rowdy group of dwarf," Elizabeth accused, with a good natured grin. Nori grinned unrepentantly while several other puffed up with pride at that statement. Fili and Kili particularly looked like preening peacocks. 

Elizabeth smiled, slightly. "And you, Bilbo?" She looked towards the hobbit who looked remarkably better now that he had a change of clean clothes, and bathed. "How are you? Does Rivendell live up to your expectations?" 

"Wonderful folk the elves are," Bilbo commented, a wide smile on his face. Some dwarves, particularly Gloin and Dwalin, looked miffed that the hobbit complimented the elves so openly. "And Rivendell…ah, if the Shire did not have such a tight hold on my heart then I believe it would have been stolen by the sight of the valley." 

"Do you like elves still, now you have had a closer view?" Elizabeth wondered, curiously. 

"They seem a bit above my likes and dislikes, so to speak," answered Bilbo slowly. His nose wrinkled thoughtfully, and glanced around the room taking in every detail as if he would never see the sight again. "It don't seem to matter what I think about them. They are quite different from what I expected—so old and young, and so sad and happy, as it were." 

Elizabeth looked at Bilbo, half startled. Outwardly, he appeared to be the same hobbit that had exited Bag End and rushed down the path with a contract in his hand however it did not sound like the old Bilbo. He looked pensive and thoughtful. "I suppose that they are," Elizabeth nodded, slowly. "Time runs differently for them in a manner of speaking. They live so long, and so slowly. The life of a man, or a hobbit, is a mere blink of the eye to them. Sometimes, it is like they live in a world of their own instead of the one that we live in." 

"You know a lot of elves, lass," Dwalin intoned, his voice low and gruff. Dwalin's face had been set in a scowl, and his eyes were as hard as stone. 

She looked at Dwalin, with a thin smile. She knew her transgression against Thorin, intentionally or not, would not be so easily forgotten by him. He was the closest to Thorin, even more so than Balin and fiercely loyal. "That I do, Master Dwalin," Elizabeth replied, smoothly. There was a bit of an ache of dismay in her chest because out of all of the dwarves, she had grown a tentative friendship with the surly dwarf. It would take much to set things right with him. 

"Elizabeth," Gandalf called out. Elizabeth jolted in her seat, and twisted towards him. 

The wizard beckoned her towards him, and she stiffened in her chair slightly. Her eyes flickered towards Elrond first, his face ever calm and patience then at Thorin, who looked ever inch of the King he proclaimed he would be. It was not so much his clothes, though they were a fine quality—deep rich blue with silver trimming that suited him well—but more of the way in which he held himself. His shoulders squared, his spine ramrod straight and those blue eyes were smoldering filled with a cold fire as he stared her down. She felt her heart quiver inside of her chest as her breath hitch slightly in her throat for his last words to her still rang in her ears as if he had shouted them. 

The words troubled her a great deal more than she liked. Silently, she told herself that Gandalf brought them here to Rivendell to aid in the quest and the ends justified the means. However, wasn't it Thorin's quest? Conflicted emotions passed through her gaze before she reigned them in with a fierce determination. Elizabeth turned her head back towards Gandalf, and she swallowed thickly before she rose out of her seat. It was only a few steps to where Elrond, Gandalf, and Thorin were seated from the table, but it felt like an eternity until she stood before them. Her hands were clasped in front of her and her head slightly bowed, as she looked at all of them through her lashes. 

"You beckoned?" Elizabeth asked, a smile fixated on her face. 

"There was another weapon we found in the Troll cave," Gandalf informed Lord Elrond while he pulled the covered up sword out of his robes. Elizabeth's right eyebrow ticked upward in mute surprise, and she was half tempted to ask how exactly he managed to get the sword out of her quarters then merely decided it was best left unknown. Gandalf would never give her a straight answer. "Elizabeth, please describe your experience," the wizard stated, that mysterious smile on his lips. 

Elizabeth hesitated. She admitted a bit of curiosity over the weapon, however she still felt a bit of mistrust towards it as well. Magic items were seldom what they appeared, and there was no doubt in her mind that the sword possessed some kind of magic. Her voice held the slightest of trembles when she began her explanation, she told him of strange light that she had seen when no one else had and the pull she felt to take the sword. How it felt like it belonged to her. She relaxed a bit when Elrond listened to her without judgment in his gaze though she noted a flicker of worry in his brown eyes. 

"May I see this blade?" Elrond inquired, and watched as Gandalf unraveled the cloth. Elrond drew in a sharp breath. "Dawnbreaker…" A look of wonder was on Elrond's face as he pulled the sword from its scabbard. He ran his hand gently across the blade then his fingers rested delicately upon the glowing jewel. "The light of the stars brought down to earth by Alatar, to be forged into a weapon by elves and dwarves. I thought it lost to the ages when Glorfindel sacrificed himself to put an end to the Barlog…how strange for it to have been found in a troll hoard of all places," he commented, and his brown eyes flickered towards Elizabeth with a speculative look in his eyes. 

There was something about his tone that made Elizabeth want to ask what exactly he meant by that, but instead she held her tongue. Elrond studied the blade for a moment longer then handed it back to Elizabeth. "It belongs to Glorfindel?" Elizabeth inquired, surprised. She had only heard faint stories over the famed weapon, most of them from Glorfindel himself. Dawnbreaker was renowned a beckon of light in an age wrought with darkness, and it was the blade he used in battle against the infamous Barlog. To hold in her hands felt like an honor and a privilege while all the unease she had slipped away, and now she stared down at the weapon with an unrestrained curiosity. 

"It did." Gandalf smiled. "How it came to be in the cave will likely be never known, but a wondrous find nonetheless," the wizard commented, while Elrond nodded in silent agreement. Elizabeth clutched the blade in her hands, her brow pinched. She opened her mouth to question further when a clatter from behind her made her whirl around and she saw Bofur standing on the table. With a wicked grin on his face and the most mischievous grin on his face, he opened his mouth and he began to sing. 

_A dwarves lad in a kilt left the bar one evening fair,_

_And one could tell by how he walked he'd drunk more than his share,_

_He staggered on until he could no longer keep his feet,_

_Then stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street._

Her eyes widened, a slightly panic look upon her face and she pressed her hand to her mouth in order to keep herself from laughing outright. Her eyes darted to Thorin whom watched the scene through a shutter gaze, but she noted that the lines around his eyes crinkled. While he would—or couldn't as it were—openly show his approval for the display, he did so silently. 

Elrond's brows were furrowed in a mild display of discontent, but to Elizabeth's relief he did not look overly annoyed. He garnered a lot of patience of the years (mostly due to the twins) and he was obviously utilizing it now. Gandalf however had an innocent and benign expression on his face, thought the mirth in his eyes gave him away. "Ah, the kilt," he commented, fondly. "A fashion trend from the Blue Mountains, soldiers would wear them out on the field. Said the lack of restriction was freeing though it quickly died when some poor dwarf got his bits cut due to the lack of prote…" the wizard halted when Elrond arched a sardonic brow at him and then cleared his throat before he turned back to show. 

The rest of the dwarves quickly picked up the tune, clapping their hands together or utensils against the table. When the chorus came around, the other more than happily joined in ignoring the shocked looks the elves were tossing each other. 

_Ring ding diddle diddle I de o_

_Ring di diddle I o,_

_He stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street._

Bilbo was torn between horror and being appalled. A strange grimace where his face twisted to show his exasperation and amusement. He ducked his head, slightly embarrassed when he noticed the slacked jaw looks on the elves' face though his Took side easily found it funny. 

_Later on two young and lovely girls just happened by,_

_And one says to the other with a twinkle in her eye,_

You see yon sleeping dwarvish man who is young and handsome built 

_I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath their kilt._

Bofur tossed Elizabeth a wink when he saw her shoulders shake with concealed laughter, and continued merrily with his song as if he hadn't a care in the world. 

Elizabeth did not think she had ever seen the elves so openly gob smacked. Across the room, Estel had a broad grin on his face while Arwen tried to conceal her laughs by burying her face into his shoulder. 

_Ring ding diddle diddle I de o,_

_Ring di diddle I o,_

_I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath their kilt._

Bofur leapt down off the table, and did some fancy footwork that involving stamping his feet down on the ground in a whimsically way. Fili and Kili got up to follow his lead, for who were they to pass up an opportunity to shine? When Fili waggled his eyebrow in Elizabeth direction, she held up her hands. There was no way she could compete with the dance they did. Whimsically and silly it may appear, but if one truly looked they could see the effort it took to move like that. 

_They crept up to the sleeping dwarf quiet as could be,_

_Then lifted up his kilt about an inch so they could see,_

_And there behold for them to view beneath his Dwarvish skirt,_

_Was nothing but what Mahal had graced him with upon his birth_

The dwarves positively roared with laughter after that line, and it took Elizabeth a moment to catch the meaning. But only a moment, then in the next one her cheeks flushed red as she laughed. Her cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling so hard. It was only when she looked in Elrond's direction and found his scrutinizing eyes upon that she made an effort to quell her laughter. One that was made in vain for when she turned around she had to dodge a roll flying through the air, and let out a startled laugh. The dwarves had taken it up themselves to have a food fight. 

_Ring ding diddle diddle I de o,_

_Ring di diddle I o,_

_There was nothing there but what Mahal gave upon his birth_

Elizabeth sang along this time, unable to help herself for their was contagious. It was almost like that carefree air from Bag End before all the negotiations had taken place, a sense of ease that she had been solely lacking. 

_They marveled for a moment then once said we'd best be gone,_

_But let's leave a present for our friend before we move along,_

_They took a blue silk ribbon and they tied it in a bow,_

_Around the bonnie spar that the dwarf's lifted kilt did show_

_Ring ding diddle diddle I de o,_

_Ring di diddle I o,_

_Around the bonnie spar that the dwarf's lifted kilt did show,_

Elizabeth was clapping her hands along with the rhythm of the song when the nape of her neck prickled and she could feel the heavy weight of eyes upon her. Craning her head ever so slightly, she saw Thorin staring at her. His blue eyes were almost pitch black, and there was a churning within their depths like the coals of a dying fire smoldering away. 

_The Dwarfman woke to nature's call and stumbled toward a tree,_

_Behind a bush he lifted his kilt and gawks at what he sees,_

_Then in a startled voice he says to what's before his eyes,_

_He said, "Lad I don't know where you've been but I see you won first prize"_

Thunderous laughter, so thunderous that she felt it through the very ground beneath her feet, erupted from the dwarves, but Elizabeth dimly heard it. Instead, a different kind of roar flooded through her ears as she held Thorin's sharp gaze. He stared at her in the way a wolf would a sheep or rabbit, like they were prey. She most certainly wasn't some sort of prey, so why did she feel so inexplicably like one? His expression was never an easy thing for her to decipher, and she did not know what he could be possibly thinking. 

She only knew how she felt underneath his gaze. Her blood quickened, a dizziness swept over her and she had the strangest urge to run her fingertips across the furrow in his brow to wipe away the worry that it flushed at such a untoward thought, she had no right to think about touching Thorin in any kind of manner and her head immediately snapped away as her chest heaved with a harsh gush of air. Her fingers burying them into the silk skirt, and she could no longer laugh so carefree at the song and merriment. 

_Ring ding diddle diddle I de o_

_Ring di diddle I o,_

_He said, "Lad I don't know where you've been but I see you won first prize"_

The dwarves cheered and Gandalf clapped as Bofur whipped off his hat to give a low sweeping bow. Fili clapped his brother's shoulder, the pair of them still shaking with guffaws. The relief from the elves was practically tangent in the air, and it brought a slight smile to Elizabeth's lips. Lettuce covered the floor now more than it did the plates, and she felt a bit sympathetic to the poor sod that would have to clean it up. While her eyes strayed to the ground, she heard the sound of the chair legs scrapping against stone and caught a flash of blue and dark wavy locks. 

Thorin had risen from his feet, his blue eyes swept over the entire scene before he exited the dining area with lengthy strides. His exit did not damper the others spirit much for they were used to his cantankerous ways, but Elizabeth watched his retreating figure with a frown upon her face. There was a tight and frankly uncomfortable feeling in her chest and she pursed her lips, looking down. It seemed that as much as Bofur had tried to find some way of lightly the mood for all, for some it had failed. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER
> 
> Next chapter: _Family drama ensues, Thorin gets broody and Elizabeth reveals some of her past and the White Council arrives might spell trouble for all._
> 
>  
> 
> REFERENCES AND LANGUAGES:
> 
>  
> 
> 1.) "Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo!" (Elvish) 'A star is shining on the hour of our meeting!'
> 
> 2.) Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin" (Elvish) Light the fires, bring forth the wine. We must feed our guests.  
>    
> 3.) Bofur's song was inspired by "Under the Scotsman's Kilt". It was hilarious song I just happened upon and it sounded like something Bofur would swing so I threw it in. :D  
> artist name, look up on youtube)
> 
> Story Timeline:
> 
> 2746: Thorin Oakenshield is born. *
> 
> 2770: The Sack of Erebor. (Smaug has driven the dwarves from Erebor and slaughtered hundred.) *  
>    
> 2779: Battle of Azanulbizar (also known as the Battle of Nanduhirion and the Battle of Dimrill Dale) happens. *
> 
> 2851, Third Age: Elizabeth arrives in Middle Earth. Elizabeth is captured by orcs, and held prisoner in Don Guldur. She meets a dwarf, "Charlie", and escapes with him. **
> 
> 2853, TA: Elizabeth is rescued by Elrond and Glorfindel. **
> 
> 2854, TA: A White Council is held to determine Elizabeth's fate. **
> 
> 2865, TA: Elizabeth visit's the Greenwoods with an envoy from Lothlórien consisting of Lady Galadriel and her husband, Celeborn. Legolas and Tauriel meet Elizabeth. **
> 
> 2890, September 22: Bilbo is born. * 
> 
> 2911, Third Age: Elizabeth meets Bungo, Belladonna, and Bilbo during the Fell Winter. * and **
> 
> 2913: Eleanor leaves the Shire, and Bilbo. ** 
> 
> 2934: Elizabeth sneaks out of Rivendell. **
> 
> 2941: The Current Year. Spring time, March-ish * and **
> 
> (Events will be added, as the story progresses to keep the timeline straight. One * means canon, two ** means OC events or means canon events that I have altered to fit story for plot purposes. * and ** means that it's a little bit canon, and a little bit me.)


	16. Know Thy Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT! GLAD YOU ALL LIKE THE FIC! :D I didn't have a song that really inspired this fic, but if you have one you'd like to recommend, let me know. :D  
> Thank you Catann, moon_goddess_118, sweetsgal, Dusk_Lilly, earedien, kalin128, annievogel90, greasergirlalex, Starkid_Impala015, Just4Me, mehg11, EbonyLeijon, edelweissmaia, DanteOphydian, RegalMagnus, fairykia, Elashor_Seger, Dances_With_Vulcans, candy_hearts, i11iad, AgentLilyAEvans, hwinde and the 48 guests who gave my story kudos!  
> Thank you, Avendia, RosetheBookWurm, aryannaoakenshield, Dusk_Lily, Starkid_Impala015, AgentLilyAEvans, candy_hearts, i11iad, for the bookmarks!  
> Thank you, sweet gal, Catann, RosetheBookWurm, Avendia, for all the comments!
> 
> Story Timeline:  
> 2746: Thorin Oakenshield is born. *  
> 2770: The Sack of Erebor. (Smaug has driven the dwarves from Erebor and slaughtered hundred.) *  
> 2779: Battle of Azanulbizar (also known as the Battle of Nanduhirion and the Battle of Dimrill Dale) happens. *  
> 2851, Third Age: Elizabeth arrives in Middle Earth. Elizabeth is captured by orcs, and held prisoner in Don Guldur. She meets a dwarf, "Charlie", and escapes with him. **  
> 2853, TA: Elizabeth is rescued by Elrond and Glorfindel. **  
> 2854, TA: A White Council is held to determine Elizabeth's fate. **  
> 2865, TA: Elizabeth visit's the Greenwoods with an envoy from Lothló rien consisting of Lady Galadriel and her husband, Celeborn. Legolas and Tauriel meet Elizabeth. **  
> 2890, September 22: Bilbo is born. *  
> 2911, Third Age: Elizabeth meets Bungo, Belladonna, and Bilbo during the Fell Winter. * and **  
> 2913: Eleanor leaves the Shire, and Bilbo. **  
> 2934: Elizabeth sneaks out of Rivendell. **  
> 2941: The Current Year. Spring time  
> (Events will be added, as the story progresses to keep the timeline straight. One * means canon, two ** means OC events or means canon events that I have altered to fit story for plot purposes. * and ** means that it's a little bit canon, and a little bit me.)  
> "Turn to Stone" by Ingrid Michaelson and 'Dream' by Priscilla Ahn are the songs that inspired this chapter. It was also inspired by "As It Seems" by Lily Kershaw.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN 

[](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/ezgif-4043058797_zpsajr6qbio.gif.html)

"Know Thy Heart"

* * *

Lindir led them to the housing even though there was a great reluctance on his face as he did so. As soon as he ushered them all inside, he gave words of parting and turned on his heel moving just slow enough that it couldn't be describe as fleeing. The dwarves muttered to themselves, looking around the large circular room. It was decorate in a most unelvish fashion. In the center of the room a fire pit had been built with stone benches all around it. Near the balcony doors sat two chairs, cushion and looked like something hobbit made than elvish. Upon the walls were paintings with bright vibrant colors that cut through the startling white. "There are rooms with beds through there and there and there," Gandalf gestured with his staff at the three doors. He did not point to the fourth door behind her for that was Elizabeth bedroom and he doubted she would be inclined to share that with anyone. "Not enough for everyone, but I'm sure you all can work out something. You will not have to worry about counting Mister Baggins in your debate for Lord Elrond has granted him his own quarters and he has accepted." 

The hobbit looked a tad flustered when the dwarves leveled looks at him. He gave a sniff, and merely looked away. It was true he had accepted Lord Elrond's offer for separate room, and quite frankly he needed a break from vexing dwarves to put it mildly. 

Thorin looked around, curious despite himself. Lord Elrond implied that Elizabeth had been here before. So many times so that it warranted permanent quarters for her to stay. A bitterness settled within his chest that he could not stop for the more he thought about the more he felt like he and Company had been tricked by the pair of them, Gandalf and Elizabeth. He knew that were a few in the company that shared this view. Yet that had not stopped him from staring at her as Bofur sang his song. He watched as all the worries slipped from her face, and her face pull into the radiant smile. She had looked beautiful as the sunshine spilt over her creating a golden halo surrounding her from head to toe. 

It was an emotion that seized his chest with a painful grip, and would not let go. Ones that he did not care to admit that he felt, and the strength of those emotions in that moment had shaken him in a way that he had not been since he was younger. It was only when she turned to look back at him, he left abruptly in order to reign them in. Thorin prided himself on his control, for when one had the weight of their entire people up their shoulders they could not give in so needless to the whims of emotions. 

Elizabeth Morgan easily took his prized control from his fingers, twisting and turning his emotions. Every encounter with her was like a battle ground, the other pushing to gain a foothold in a war that neither quite understood. His chest hardened, determined to keep the little witch at a comfortable distance. She may be part of the company, but he could not trust her. He would not. 

"What about that room?" Kili inquired about the large doors, engraved with vines of ivory. "Does it have a bed?" 

"Indeed it does, Mister Kili," Gandalf stated, with a light huff. "However, that is Elizabeth's room and I do not think she would appreciate the idea of a bunkmate." 

"Tell me, Gandalf," Thorin intoned, his voice barely more than a whispered. He cocked his head to the side and silky strands of black and silver fell into his face as his eyes narrowed. "Who is this woman to garnered such favor from the Elf Lord? What is she to this valley?" 

The wizard's nose twitched. "I do believe that is the lady's tale to tell, not mine," Gandalf replied, putting his hat back upon his head. "Come now, Bilbo," Gandalf said, with a strained smile on his face as he clapped the hobbit on the shoulder. "I believe that you wished to see the Hall of Fire before you retired to your quarters?" As soon as the wizard and hobbit were gone, Thorin thought over the wizard's reply. He was decisively certain that the wizard was determined to make everything as difficult as possible for he had been nothing but. He let out a deep huff as Balin and Dwalin came to his side. 

"The wizard keeps many secrets," Balin commented. 

"Too many for my liking," Dwalin stated, gruffly. 

Thorin inclined his head in agreement. "Alas, there is little we can do about it now. The wizard intends to aid us on this quest whether we want him here or not," he rumbled, his hand fishing out his pipe. A good smoke would do well to quell his irritation. "The woman is another matter entirely." 

"You think we can't trust her," Balin crossed his arms over his chest as he settled into one of the chairs as Bifur got a fire going. The wood crackled and hissed as the flames slowly grew in force. 

"She has secrets, Balin," Thorin looked at him squarely. 

"And we have ours," Balin retorted, easily. "And we have reasons for the secrets that we keep. Do you not think that Elizabeth may have reasons for hers?" The white haired dwarf reasoned. 

"There are many reasons to be had for keeping a secret," Thorin agreed, with a heavy frown. He pinched a good amount of pipeweed from the pouch before he stuffed into his pipe. Dwalin lit it after lighting up his own. "Not all of them are good. More often than not, they come with a hefty price and what if the price of her secrets come at our Company's expense? I cannot just ignore it, Balin." 

"I'm not asking you to lad," Balin stated, with a small sigh. "But we are all entitled to a past Thorin, whether it be good or bad. Mistakes that were made, things we would have done differently, and Elizabeth is no different. I don't not think that Elizabeth's past is something that she intentionally keeps, but one that she merely does not speak of. You saw it when you fought her, Thorin. One does not get that look from a life lived in leisure or plenty. That is a look of a survivor, of one who has known darkness and did not come out unscathed. One has gone through such things…it is not a joy to speak of the past. Something that we dwarves all know too well." 

The wood crackled as the smoke drifted up through the chimney up above and the dwarves settled around. Thorin mulled over Balin's words as he inhaled swiftly on his pipe. Balin's words had merit as they always did, but his suspicions were not so easily dispelled. His blue eyes stared at the growing fire, watching it snaked around the wood and even though the air warmed, deep inside…Thorin was left cold. 

* * *

Arwen was going to maim her. 

For not only was she not _resting,_ she was getting her dress _dirty._ The end of her skirt had gathered a thin layer of dirt as she spun around, driving Dawnbreaker into the target shaped from bags of hay. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she felt her wounds protest as she pulled the blade few from the target. The hush of night had fallen upon the valley. The blanket of stars twinkled from above so brightly they appeared like diamonds in the sky and the summer air had simmered down into a light breeze. Elizabeth's thought were scattered and unclear and she found no ease from them. Training had become a coping mechanism, for lack of a better term. She rolled her shoulder to ease the ache there as her temple throbbed with pain. Drawing in a deep breath, she lunged forward piercing the target with the end of her blade and a bundle of hay came falling down. She let out a huff of amusement before became aware of a presence behind her. 

"I pity the fool that would find himself on the end of your blade," a voice commented, with mirth from behind her. 

She twisted around, and her mouth dropped open in shock before a burst of delighted laughter tore from her throat. "Glorfindel! _Mae g'ovannen!_ " She gave the golden haired elf a broad smile. The dark cloud that hung over her head, momentarily forgotten. 

" _Elen sila lúmenn' omentielvo_ ," Glorfindel stated, with a tiny smile upon his lips. He pulled her into a quick, tight embrace and it conveyed how truly relieved he was to see her. He pulled back, his hands resting on her shoulders. "It is a joy to see you, _Mellonamin_. You're presences in these halls has been greatly missed by all." 

Elizabeth smiled faltered ever so slightly. "It is a nice thought, but I'm not sure it is entirely accurate," she stated, with a light sigh. 

Glorfindel's eyes saw right to the meaning of her woebegone expression. "He has missed you most of all, little one. Do not mistake his composure for one of complete indifference," the elf advised her quietly. "He has a father's love for you, Aldanniel and you a daughter's love for him. Do not let misunderstandings cloud that." 

Elizabeth listened to the wise words, and they granted her a small amount of comfort. However, the ache in her heart could not be full eased. "I shall try to keep your advice in mind," she promised, her thumb traces over the hilt of her blade when a jolt of realization stung through her. "However, I am glad that you are here. I believe I have something that belongs to you," Elizabeth took a step back so she could present the blade to him properly. 

Astonishment filled Glorfindel's eyes as he beheld the blade, and withdrew it carefully from Elizabeth's hands. He stared at the burnt gold color of the blade, then to the handle where the circular jewel laid glowing with an eternal light. "I have not seen this…" his eyes darkened in remembrance of his battle with the Barlog, and his fiery death. "Where ever did you find it?" Glorfindel looked down at her, shocked. It was an expression she had never seen on the golden haired elf's face before. 

"In a troll hoard," Elizabeth bit back a smile. 

"In a troll hoard?" Glorfindel looked mildly offended to think his blade ended up in such abhorrent place and a little bemused as well. His blue eyes skimmed over the blade reverently and he expertly sliced it through the air, the feel of it natural to him. "Ah…such a fine blade. There are few that rival it. A true masterpiece, one of the few times elves and dwarves worked together to create something instead of destroy." He moved with a grace and precision that would leave lesser warriors filled with envy. Glorfindel did one last sweep with the sword before he straightened his stance. He ran his finger across the glowing jewel then turned to Elizabeth with a mirthful look in his eyes, and a smile on his lips. "No, this blade does not belong to me anymore." 

A jolt of surprise rushed through her as Glorfindel held out the sword for her to take back with a light smile upon his lips. "Glorfindel, I-I couldn't," she shook her head side to side, as her heart welled up inside her chest. 

"Dawnbreaker found its way to you, whether by fate or by chance," Glorfindel stated, adamantly with a twinkle in his eyes. "I cannot think of another that I would rather wield this blade than you, Aldanniel." 

His words touched her, and she found her eyes suspiciously wet. Her hands hesitantly reached out and she took the blade. "Thank you, Glorfindel," she swallowed thickly and bowed ever so slightly. "I promise to use it with great honor." 

"I know you will," Glorfindel said, gently resting his hand on her shoulder. He looked down at her with an expression of great fondness and pride. "Do you remember what I used to say you were? When you were a child?" He inquired. 

Elizabeth flushed ever so slightly in slight embarrassment at the mention of the nickname that Glorfindel had given her when she was a child. "Sunshine," she recalled, a small smile on her lips. "You used to say I was full of sunshine." 

"And there is nothing more than the world cares for than the rays that bring the warmth of the sun. To be bathed in light, and flourished underneath it. However, the greater the light…the greater chance there is for darkness," Glorfindel held the blade in his palm, a fond wistfulness in his gaze as he looked down at his former sword. "As long as you carry Dawnbreaker, it's light will help you see the path even in the darkest of places." 

Glorfindel pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. "Goodnight, sunshine," he smiled, and walked away, his feet silent upon the grass. Elizabeth watched him until he disappeared out of sight then dropped her gaze to Dawnbreaker, her brows scrunched in bemusement. With a slight shake of her head, she abandoned her training in favor of finding her bed and taking rest. Her feet lead her down the familiar path as her thoughts drifted, and she walked down some stairs coming to a landing when a distant voice made her pause. 

"I think you can trust I know what I am doing," a voice that was unmistakably Gandalf's echoed lightly through the valley. Elizabeth twisted her head, and saw the wizard walking along Lord Elrond on a bridge on the other side of the river. 

"Do you?" Elrond drawled, seemingly unconvinced. "That dragon has slept for sixty years. What would happens if your plan shall fail? If you wake the beast?" 

"But what is we should succeed?" Gandalf countered. "If the dwarves take back Erebor then our defenses in the East shall be strengthened." 

"It is a dangerous move, Gandalf," Elrond replied. 

Elizabeth lips pursed as she looked down slightly. It was wrong of her to stand here, and eavesdrop on this conversation. She took a hesitate step back and turned to walk away when she saw Thorin standing there behind her, his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes were firmly locked on her, though she could see the tightness in his jaw as he too listened to the conversation. A flush of embarrassment colored her cheeks for not only being caught, but in mortification that Thorin was hearing them discuss him and his quest behind his back. 

"It is also dangerous to do nothing," Gandalf stated, firmly. "The throne of Erebor is Thorin's birthright. What is it that you fear?" 

"Have you forgotten?" Elrond's voice sharp. "A strain of madness runs deep in that family. His grandfather lost his mind. His father succumbed to the same sickness. Can you swear that Thorin Oakenshield will not also fall?" 

Gandalf's silence was deafening. Elizabeth felt a numbness rip through her from head to toe leaving her stunned. Her lips parted slightly and her discolored eyes looked up at Thorin. His eyes looked beyond her now, and he took a step forward. A curtain of dark hair slid down obscuring her view, but not before Elizabeth saw the raw pain fresh upon his features. A spike of pain hit her like an arrow to the heart, his head was bowed in a such way that was completely uncharacteristic of the arrogant Thorin that she had come to know. He always seemed impossible to knock down, but right in this second there was something…broken about him. She placed a hand to her heart, staring at him and she suddenly wished she had some words to offer him. She almost apologized, but he would see it as pity so she kept her silence. 

Thorin looked down at the stone beneath his feet, not truly seeing it. Instead, he was lost deep in thoughts as Lord Elrond's words invoked dark images of a past he wished solely to forget. To a time before the dragon had sacked Erebor, yet a shadow of a different kind hung over the great Kingdom. Visions of his grandfather slowly lost the love for anything that was not gold. Of watching him from afar aimlessly wandering through the treasure with a mad glazed look in his eyes. The same madness that driven the king to send them upon Moira after Erebor had been stolen, and the lives that had been taken were beyond number. All because of his madness. Thorin would never forget that look of hunger and greed, a look that haunted his dreams where his grandfather's face was replaced with his own. 

"These decisions do not lie in our hands alone, Gandalf," Elrond stated, diplomatically. "It is not up to you or me to redraw the map of Middle Earth." 

Gandalf let out a deep sigh. "With or without our help, these dwarves will march on the mountain. They are determined to reclaim their homeland. I do not believe Thorin Oakenshield believes he is…" and the voice trailed off and the pair was no longer anywhere in sight. 

Elizabeth stood there, feeling very cold in the summer air and a knot of emotions welling up in her throat. Her eyes lingered upon Thorin, watching the rise and fall of each of his breaths. Erestor used to tell her that those who eavesdropped seldom heard well things about themselves, though she doubted Thorin would appreciate such advise right now. She opened her mouth as she stepped forward, her hand reached out towards only to pause a half an inch away from his shoulder. He tensed as if he knew she were about to touch him and his only reaction was a shallow gulp of air. Her fingers trembled in the air for several second beckoning for her to close the distance, but instead she withdrew her hand wrapping her arm around her middle tightly. There was twinge in her chest the longer as she turned to make her way up the stairs. 

"Afraid to linger with a mad king?" Thorin's voice made her halt. His voice sounded was light, but there was a graveness to it that was unmistakable. He turned away from the beautiful view the night offered to instead look upon her, and he looked at her with a guarded look in his eye. 

"You aren't," Elizabeth stated, with a frown. To have him speak of himself in such way…she did not like it, not one bit. She twisted back around to face him, a slightly bemused furrow to her brow as her eyes raked over him from head to toe. "Mad, that is. I don't believe you are." 

"Perhaps not," Thorin admitted, a husky timber in his voice as he took a step closer. His eyes squared fixed upon her, not once blinking. She was a vision bathed moonlight, and a stray strand of hair had fallen into her face that he had to clasp his hands in front of him in order to curb the impulse to tuck it safely behind her ear. "Lord Elrond's is just one of many. There are a few that believe that the Durin Line is cursed, some want nothing to do with others while other have gone so far as to try to assassinate my sister and her sons. I have even myself have had to defend myself against the blade of treachery." 

She looked at him, aghast. A stab of pain erupted from her chest for she knew how it felt to live in constant fear, wondering if the next day would be here last. It was a terrible burden for one to carry themselves. It must be even more terrible when one had to carry it for others as well. "I believe I know what you are, Thorin Oakenshield, and I believe I know what you are not," she stated, with full conviction and her gaze like steel. "You aren't not what they say and I hold no regret in choosing to follow you. I never will." 

She shocked him, she knew this for he drew in a sharp breath. His eyes locked with hers and the air surrounding her suddenly felt charged with something she was not able to define. Her cheeks turned pink ever so slightly, and her skin prickled with awareness. Her heart thudded in her chest with all the force of the beating drum and she stood there transfixed by the sight of him for a moment. The way the light from the moon shined down across his face lighting it and shading it in equal measure. His blue eyes glittered with a piercing intensity that made it very hard to breath. She licked her dry lips, and then gave him a slow, uncertain smile. "Goodnight, Mister Oakenshield," she said, softly then turned on her heel and left him standing there lost in his thoughts. 

* * *

Elizabeth poured a cup of tea and wandered out to the porch exclusive to her room that stood just off the glean with a spectacular view of the waterfall. It was a bit separate from the main structures of Rivendell, a private house so those who needed privacy while healing could have it. It had been hers as a child and long after it had stayed that way. It had only made sense for the dwarves to stay here. With the distrust a tension between the elves and dwarves, it felt like everyone in Rivendell was tiptoeing a fine line. Elizabeth's line felt a little more finer than anyone else's and thus harder to balance. 

The dwarves were wary because of her history with the elves, and the elves worried about her association with the dwarves. It was maddening. Utterly maddening. She glanced over at the Last Homely House with a wistful look. She'd never be able to pay back the elves who'd taken her in as part of their family. She wouldn't have been her if it weren't for them, at least not in the way that she was. her beloved boat finished if it weren't for them. She drew in a slow breath looked around at the trees shimmering in the early morning light. Birds flirted from branch to branch, and wild deer walked along the far edge of the lake where the waterfall fell down below. Sitting there, sipping her tea and watching the wildlife around her, everything began to settle in both her body and mind. 

Her wounds were not gone, they still ached, but the day no longer felt like such an obstacle. She never imagined she would ever find a place that would ever come so close to home, but Rivendell had. And she never would have, if not for the five strangers who'd entered her life and taken her into theirs. Her "family." They had her fierce, unswerving loyalty. A slight warning shivered down her body. She was not alone. 

Craning her neck, she peered over her shoulder to find Bilbo there to her pleasant surprise. "I did not think I would see you until noon. The elves are more liberal with their wine when they are singing and telling stories in the Hall of Fire," Elizabeth grinned at him as he shuffled forward to lean against the banister. 

"Elvish wine is pleasant enough, but it has nothing on Shire mead," Bilbo gave a light chuckle, an edge of nostalgia about him as he looked upon the valley. Elizabeth wondered silently if he actually saw the valley below, or instead saw a vision of the Shire in it's place. In the end, she decided it was not her place to know as she took another healthy sip of her tea. "Is it always so serene here in the valley?" 

"Yes. At least, I have not seen a time where it has been anything else. Lord Elrond would know more of Rivendell's history than I," Elizabeth commented, with a light shrug of her shoulders. She leaned her back against the railing and tilted her head back so she could view the cloudless sky above. "Rivendell was built on Lord Elrond's command, a safe haven and light in darker times long since past. If you wish to know the history of anything then I would look to the elves for aid. Where others merely read about it, they have lived it. Though be careful of whom you choose to aid you in your search, for history is always remembered differently by different people." 

"Whom do you think would give me the truth of things then?" Bilbo inquired, for he was a bit of a scholar himself and always loved learning knew things. 

"The truth? Well, there is three sides to every story. Your version, my version and the truth of what really happened. Who do I think would give you an unbiased look upon the past?" Elizabeth mused, twisting the tea cup delicately between her fingers. "Erestor would. He has never held back in my teachings, never tried to color my view of the world. He told me simply what happened. All the good and the bad of all the races, and their history." 

"All races? Even hobbits?" Bilbo blinked. 

"Even hobbits," Elizabeth cracked a smile. "Though I do admit the knowledge to be found on your people was scarce which is probably a good thing." Lifting her cup to her mouth, she got a gleam of amusement within her gaze. "Dinner was quite a festive affair, was it not?" Elizabeth mused, arching an inquiring brow at the hobbit. Her lips were quirked up into a half smile. 

"Indeed. Though I do not think that elves thought it quite as festive as the dwarves," Bilbo commented, a half smile upon his face. "At first it was a bit surprising, but then it was nothing different from what they had done at Bag End. I suppose that we should be grateful, with the animosity between the dwarves and elves, that everything went as well as it did." 

"You are right," Elizabeth let out a small chuckle. Despite the clear displeasure the elves had at Bofur's tune, it had managed to break a level of tension that had been here upon their arrival. "I had imagined worse outcomes for that dinner than a rather cheeky song, mind you. A lot of them involved Dwalin's axe and Lindir's head. I daresay the elf was rather lucky that it was only a bread roll that went flying at his head." 

"Elizabeth!" Bilbo admonished, though he couldn't disagree. Out of all the elves, Lindir had not been the most gracious and was taking the dwarves presences rather personally. Elizabeth shrugged her shoulder at the reprimand. She did not speak anything that wasn't true. She had seen the dwarf grip his axe with a speculative glance in the elf's direction, and if it had not been for Balin, Dwalin would have probably given into the impulse. "Oh! Gandalf told me to pass this message along to you," the hobbit suddenly recalled. "Lord Elrond wishes to speak to you today, at your own discretion that is." 

Elizabeth shift on the balls of her feet nervously. "I had expected he would," she admitted, finishing off her tea. She walked back into her room and set the cup upon the tray with Bilbo trailing behind her. "I suppose I should be on my way. It would not due to keep him waiting." 

"Arwen was by earlier," Bilbo stated. "She left you that," he pointed, and watched with amusement as Elizabeth blanked slightly at the sight of the sapphire blue dress on the bed. Elizabeth did not dislike dresses, in fact she did not mind them at all. It was nice on occasion to get to wear such things, but if she had to chose…she preferred the security of her armor to such frilly things. Catching the smirk on Bilbo's face, she gave him a dirty look. "Oh, shut it," she told him, defensively. 

"I didn't say anything," the hobbit held up his hands. 

She looked at him, deadpanned. "You didn't have to," Elizabeth said, flatly. After shooing the chuckling hobbit out of her room, she pulled on her dress and ran a brush haphazardly through her hair before she walked out of the room. The dwarves all holed up in the room with some meats and sausages that Nori had nicked from the pantry for everyone much to Elizabeth's amusement. 

"Where are ye headin' off to?" Bofur asked, as he roasted a sausage off the end of a fire poker above the open flame. His head perked up when he saw her passing by. 

She paused for a moment. "Lord Elrond has requested my presences," Elizabeth informed him, seeing no harm in being honest though she knew the reaction she would receive would be less than favorable. And…she was right. It went dead silent, and all the dwarves look at her as if she had grown a pair of pointy ears. 

Thorin looked away from the strange collections of books, upon a mahogany bookshelf. "And why would the elf lord seek your council?" He intoned, darkly. His blue eyes were scrutinizing as he swept over her with more than a little suspicious. 

"It is not council he seeks from me," Elizabeth stated, the notion amused her slightly. Thorin's brashness however did not. "I go to speak with him over some personal matters. Not that is any of your business," she couldn't help, but to add earning a derisive snort of Dwalin who had begun to methodically clear his weapons. 

"You will find that is my business," Thorin disagreed, his arms crossed over his broad chest and he stared at her, disapprovingly. "I will not have you discuss our matters with elves." 

"Then you are in luck, Mister Oakenshield," she said, drolly as she smoothed out the fabric around her bodice in unconcerned motion. "I have no intention of discussing you, rest assure that I have my own matters to discuss with Lord Elrond." 

"And if I inquire the nature of said matters?" Thorin asked, the corner of his mouth twitched when he saw her spare him a quick glance with thinly veiled annoyance. His eyes slid across her face, flickering towards her lips pursed into a stubborn pout and he paid them more attention than necessary before he forced his gaze back upward towards the glare. 

Elizabeth looked across the group of dwarves, and knew that they would not simply let the matter lie. In the beginning she had admired the dwarves' stubborn nature. Now…she was seeing it as plain annoying. Elizabeth sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "The hour grows late and I have dawdled longer than I should have," she spoke plainly. "So if you will excuse me…" She began to edge around the group when Thorin stepped into her path, looking like an immovable mountain in her way. She almost laughed at the comparison she had just made if it weren't for the fact her annoyance was rising. "You may be the leader of this company, but you are not mine," she told him, her eyes narrowed into slits and her chin tilted upward. "My personal affairs are not your concern." 

"No…perhaps not," Thorin agreed, easily which unsettled her deeply. His head cocked to the side and silky strands of black and silver fell into his face as his eyes narrowed looked away. "But you did sign a contract, and it does say that you are completely at my service." 

There was a strange sensation in her stomach. A fluttering just belong her belly button as her pulse jumped into her throat. Her fingers rubbed her sweaty palms, and she drew in a sharp breath. "I agreed to be at your completely service for the quest," Elizabeth stated, a flush of fury rising in her cheeks. "This has nothing to do with your quest, and I will not stand here and be interrogated because your inability to trust." 

"My ability to trust is unhindered," Thorin denied the claim with a wave of his hand and his lips thinned out into a line. "I am merely selective of whom I choose to bequeath my trust unto." 

"And elves are completely untrustworthy?" Elizabeth asked. 

"Yes," he replied, deadpanned. 

Elizabeth huffed, and shook her head. So be it. If there was no other way that Thorin would not leave her be on this matter, then she simply would have to make him. "Lord Elrond is a healer," Elizabeth said, simply. "Have you ever consider I wish to consult him on certain matters?" 

"Oin is a healer," Thorin pointed out. 

Elizabeth felt a bit of color fill up her cheeks. "I am well aware that Oin is a healer and he is quite accomplish from all that I have seen," she inclined her head at the older dwarf who had frown on his face, his horn twisted in their direction in order to hear better after he heard his name. "However, I would feel better discussing this matter with someone…whom I have already discussed it with," she said, her hands crossed behind her back while a grimace filtered across her face. She remembered that day very well, and how embarrassing the whole ordeal had been. 

"Are you suffering an injury, lass? An ailment?" Oin spoke up, a tadbit concerned. His eyes looked over her intently as he started to search his bag for supplies. "You are looking a bit peekish." 

"Oin is the company healers," Thorin pointed out, with an air of authority about him that would broker no further argument. "We take of our own, and when you signed your contract that by extension means you." 

"You are…so _difficult_ ," Elizabeth snapped, biting back a suffering sigh. "And I'm beginning to think it's on purpose," she added, underneath her breath with a dark look at him. 

Thorin merely arched a brow. 

She pinched the bridge of her nose, and could not believe that she had to go to such means to get out of a room of all things. "You understand there are differences between men and women, don't you?" She eyed Thorin, with an exasperation kind of amusement. He frowned at her confusion written upon his furrowed brow and she felt a sigh work its way up her throat. "That sometimes that women go through things that men don't. Things they go through on a… _monthly_ bases." 

She waited for him to get there. She could see the cogs turning inside of his mind, and the dawning realization and horror that accompanied on his face would have been comical if Elizabeth didn't feel so mortified herself. Behind him, Dwalin was wide eyed and she swore he glanced at the door as contemplating bolting from the room while Balin just shook his head lightly while pinching his brow. The other dwarves reacted accordingly, but the younger ones looked mostly confused. Thorin stared at her for a heartbeat longer. "As you were," his voice was surprisingly composed as he stepped out of her path. "We will not keep you any longer." 

"Thank you," she said, quickly. She did not even stop to say a parting to Bilbo who watched the whole scene with a wide eyed expression of shock, horror, and amusement. It was a half true she had told, for she did intended to go one of the healers in order to procure some herbs to avoid such feminine conditions on the roadway, but that was an entirely different matter than the one she needed to discus with Lord Elrond. She was only marginally embarrassed that she used such desperate means to get out of the room, but the dwarves did not leave her any choice. _The stubborn louts,_ she thought, with a fondness she couldn’t deny. She hurried down the hallway, and put that moment behind her as quickly as she could hoping for eradicate from her mind entirely and she hoped the dwarves would do the same. 

* * *

The garden was in full bloom. Forget me nots, marigolds, roses, and so much more painted colors all around her as she strode along the pathway. As always life seemed to thrive here in the valley as if blessed by Eru himself. Perhaps it was, she mused quietly. The garden was also another place she sought sanctuary when she was younger. Her finger tips brushed the white column as she passed it by, and she looked down at the bench. The engraved pattern there, and found herself drawn back into a different time. _Elizabeth rocked back and forth on the bench, her hands wrapped around her midsection tightly. Her eyes flicker around her warily, part of her believing that she was dead and this must be heaven. The other part of her was certain it was cruel dream. She did not know why these…elves took her in. She wasn't entirely certain they were elves because while they had pointy ears, they weren't short. Elves were supposed to be short, weren't they? Or were those only Christmas elves? Her nose wrinkled as she shook her head lightly._

_She guessed it didn't matter really. The stars were bright and twinkling merrily down at her as the night's air grew chill. The elves had given her a bed, but she couldn't sleep in it. It was soft, and cozy, and so unlike the hard ground she had been using as a bed for a very long time. She couldn't go to sleep in it, so she had snuck out of the room and found herself sitting in the garden staring up at the moon. She used to talk to the moon before…everything had happened. Her mom had said there was a man on the moon, and Elizabeth thought that was a bit lonely so she would talk to him. She didn't talk much anymore._

_So deep in thought that she did not see the dark haired elf until he was standing right beside her. She jolted, a scream lodged in her throat. She wasn't used to people anymore. She only saw real people from a distance, and the monsters were up close. Her eyes were wide, and she was sitting there stiff as a board. Brown eyes full of compassion that she couldn't understand (or perhaps she had lost the understanding for it) stared down at her. His hands were clasped in front of him as he inclined his head, and gave her what she supposed was some kind of greeting. His movements were slow and graceful as to not alarm her further and she watched with an unblinking gaze._

_He was the leader person. She was sure of it. Everyone looked to him for instructions, so that meant he was the leader. She was good at watching people, she had done it from afar in the woods when people passed by. People were kind of interesting, but every time she thought about going to them…to talk, or to get help…a terror like no other rushed through her. She froze up, choked by fear. Just like now._

_The elf had healed her, took care of her wounds, but she couldn't help the instinct to run. Her heart pounded within her chest, and her fingers dug painfully into her side. The elf spoke to her, his voice musical and soothing. It rolled over Elizabeth and she wanted to relax, but she couldn't. Her body wouldn't let her. She just suck in a gust of much needed air and the elf gave her what appeared to small, sad smile. He walked past her and to the edge of the garden. He stood in front of a beautiful assortment of daises, deep rich mauve begonias, violet crocuses, and snow white anemones. His face was hidden within the shadows, and for several moments it was completely silent._

_A Caita carelya ammelda ar moiana._

_Lanta i lómë, utúlielyë tiëo mettanna._

_A lorë si, ar óla len i epë tuller._

_Entë yaitar hrestallo pella._

_Elizabeth startled, taken aback. Her brows shot up to her hairline, and she stared at the elf's back. He was singing? How odd. But was it really? Her sisters would sing all the time if they could get away with it. They thought themselves a band. However, why was this elf singing? The words washed over her, and slowly the suspicion eased up out of her as curiosity slowly began to win over it._

_Manen neyilyë? Mallo niër antalyassë?_

_Rato cenuvalyë sa ilyë caurelyar autuvar,_

_varna mi inya ranqui._

_Her brows furrowed. The song was wistful, and sad, yet at the same time it was hopeful. She didn't know when it started, but one by one her muscles uncoiled. She found herself leaning back against the column, watching the elf as he stood there. He didn't turn around, his gaze was out towards some distance that was not hers to see. The pounding of her heart slowed, and she found herself breathing in and out. The words made no sense to her, but something about them made the panic wash away._

_Man cenilyë eccaianna?_

_Manen i maiwi ninqui yaitar?_

_Arta i Eär Isil néca amorta_

_Ciryar utúlier an yulu le márelya._

_Rómen ahyuva ve hyellë telpina,_

_i cála nenissë. Ilyë fëar autar._

_Elizabeth did not know when her eyes started to droop, nor when her conscious mind slipped into a state of dreaming. She only remembered being at peace, and when the next morning came she found herself safely tucked away in the bedroom._

"Lost in daydreams?" A voice came from behind her. 

Elizabeth turned and saw Lord Elrond walked down the steps towards her. An urge to bolt like a startled rabbit welled up inside of her, but she managed to reign in it. "Lost in memories," she corrected, with a small nod and unsure smile. "You…uh, you wished to see me?" She inquired, a nervous tilt to her voice. 

"Yes," Lord Elrond commented. "Though I am not the only one who wished to see you." 

As a frown filtered across Elizabeth's face, Elrond looked at something over her shoulder. Elizabeth craned her neck to peer past the flowers, and her heart swelled in her chest at the sight of the golden colored mare. "Aracala," she breathed out, relieved. The horse raised its head from where she had been in an intently staring at the blue butterfly and upon seeing Elizabeth gave a great neigh before she trotted excitedly forward. Elizabeth winced slightly as some rather unlucky got trampled on by Aracala's feet, but she had a feeling Elrond would not hold it against the mare. The horse halted right in front of Elizabeth and head butted Elizabeth's shoulder lightly then snorted as she shook her mane. 

Placing her hands upon the horse neck, she stroked her mane gently. "I am so glad to see you," she told the horse, with a bright smile. She had been worried ever since the Trolls (then with the wargs and orcs) what became of Aracala. She should have learned that the horse was quite capable of taking care of herself by now. No matter how many times they had been separated or been put through trials, Aracala always found her. 

"She was quite stubborn," Elrond commented, his lips twitching into something very close to a smile. "No matter how hard the stableman tried, she refused to stay put. It appears all she needed to know what that her rider was alright." 

Elizabeth patted Aracala's face fondly. "I am sorry that she has been so much trouble," Elizabeth apologized, but behind her Aracala snorted in disagreement. "Hush you," she swatted half-heartedly at the mare in reprimand. "Go. Go to the stables and be nice about it this time, please." Aracala stared stonily at Elizabeth before giving a quiet snort, then tried to nip at Elizabeth's fingers. "Now, none of that. Run along." 

Aracala neighed, petulantly before she trotted off with a rather reluctant looking gallop. Elizabeth shook her head. "I swear sometimes that horse is far too smart for her own good," she shook her head. 

"Much like her owner," Lord Elrond commented, a smile in his voice. "Come. Sit," he gestured towards the other end of the bench as he sat down. 

Elizabeth walked over and took a seat. She folded her hands into her lap and sat there quietly. She thought of saying several things, but none seemed the wisest choice to start with. She was saved from the decision when it was Elrond whom decided to start to speak. "I have found that over the years that you only hold your silence when thoughts weigh heavily upon you," Elrond commented, his eyebrow arched. 

"My thoughts hold more weight on some day more than others though I do not believe it is my thoughts that you wished to discuss," she stated, with a light frown. Perhaps it was growing up with him as her father that let her see the unease that lied within him. 

"Not entirely, no." Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose, and the frown on his face became more pronounced. "I have found in the recent weeks that my thoughts, too, grow heavy and with the arrival of the dwarves even more so. Mithrandir once again has given into his uncontrollable need to meddle, and we can only hope that all we end in peace and not tragedy." 

A flash of surprise flickered across Elizabeth's face. She almost inquired if he spoke of the dragon, or Thorin but decided best against it. For a moment, she was silent for she had come here with no intention to speak of the dwarves. She had come to clear the air of doubt that lingered over her, but she supposed she could take some solace in the fact that it was Elrond who broached the subject not her. Instead, her brows furrowed for a brief moment then she asked, cautiously, "May I speak frankly?" 

Elrond inclined his head. "You may," he granted. 

"The dwarves are in need of aid as you have said, whether they are willing to admit or not," Elizabeth said, after a long pause. She clutched the fabric of her skirt nervously, and she thought best how to state her words. "I can understand you hesitation on giving help in this quest. There is a dragon that if it is not dead could do much harm, and as one of the pillars of light against the darkness of the world you have to consider the welfare of all before that of the few. However, I cannot regret wanting to help them no matter what may follow. When they speak of Erebor, it not for the glory or the gold, no matter how enticing that may sound. They covet the mountain not out of greed, but with the longing of home. A place to be safe. A place to live, and flourish without constant fear and doubt plaguing them every step they take. Without having to look over your shoulder, or wonder where you head shall fall, or the next meal will come from. I know what that feels like, and I know how it feels to feel as if you have been forgotten and forsaken. I know the longing that they feel, and I would never presume to tell you what to do, but…" Elizabeth clasped her hands nervously together in her lap. "I can understand if you decide not to give us aid, but I would ask that you do not try to stop us, either." 

Elrond cocked his head to the side ever so slightly, as he scrutinized with his dark, seemingly all knowing gaze. "Such loyalty you show them, and you are not one to give it away frivolously," Elrond murmured, a gravely edge to his voice. His brow was marred by concern as he looked over his child, and he released a heavy sigh. “I can concede that your plea on the dwarves behalf is sound, and has swayed me in part. I only hope that the dwarves are truly deserving of the faith you place in them.” 

"I…" Elizabeth faltered for a minute. She remembered the way the dwarves sang of their home, remembered the days that at camp, the tight-knit group that seemed to slowly being accepting her. She wanted to be a part of the Company, she had realized. "I believe that they are, and I will help them in any way I possibly can. They are as proud as they are stubborn that I think that any obstacle in their path will not falter them. They are determined, and steadfast. They long for a place to belong that is theirs that no one can ever take away, and I understand that more than they may ever know.” She looked downward at the ground, a familiar ache rising up in her chest the more she thought about it all. "If I ever thought there had been a way back all those years ago…I would have taken it, no matter what consequences followed." 

Elrond looked at her steadily, watching the emotions play across her face and a realization dawned in his eyes. He stared at her for a moment longer before he rose gracefully off the bench to pace across the terrace, and stopped in front of the trampled flowers. Elizabeth stared at his back, for he was silent long enough to begin to make her nervous. When she was ready to break the silence, Elrond turned back towards her. _"Ah im, ú-'erin veleth lîn?"_ Elrond questioned, gravely. 

_"Gerich veleth nîn, ada,_ " Elizabeth stated, more vehemently than she meant to. She could not believe that he would doubt such a thing, or that he meant so much to her. He was her father in everything, but blood. He had raised her for most of her life, and had seen her at her worse and helped her become her best. 

Elrond expression softened ever so slightly. "Do you remember when we first brought you to Rivendell?" He questioned, his hands clasped behind his back as he walked back towards her. 

"Yes." Elizabeth nodded, after swallowing thickly. "I remembered waking up in a bed, and I thought it was just a dream. The thought of it being real was so unbelievable. I then became frightened when it didn't melt away. I remember looking at all of the beauty around me, and I felt like an outsider in it all. I was just a broken husk, a shadow of a person. Broken," she shook her head, releasing a deep sigh. She looked up at her father with a sadness on her face. "I am sorry." 

Elrond blinked, the only indication that she had surprised him. "I am sorry for leaving all those years ago without a single word or indication of where I was going. Without sending word," she elaborated, with an awkward wave of her hands. "I just…I wanted to make this home so badly, but my heart…it wouldn't allow. It was nothing that any of you did, or didn't do. You gave me a family, and love, and everything I needed. I just couldn't stay. I wish I had better words to explain it, or to make you understand it, but I cannot seem to find them. It just felt like Rivendell was not my home to keep, that if I dared try then…" Her voice faltered, as the fears that she kept hidden so deep down inside almost came out for all to see. 

Elrond stared at her, but with no anger or disappointment that she had so expected. Instead, she saw understanding and her chest tightened painfully. She could feel the familiar swell of tears in her eyes, and she drew in a sharp, shaky breath. "Much has flourished in this valley, but I do not think that anything has flourished quite like you did. You were never broken, Aldanniel, nor were you ever less of a person. You were lost, and all those who are lost can find themselves again. You have," Elrond told her, pointedly. "And I am not anger. I am not disappointed in you. I admit that I have been concerned and worried, but I am your father and I will always be so when your path takes you from here." 

"I know," Elizabeth said, softly. "I just let myself forget." 

Elrond smiled, his smile was as warm as sunshine, but such much more rare. "You have grown into a capable, young woman and I find that I could not be prouder," he told her, honestly for he had no reason to lie about such a thing. "Now," he clasped her arm, giving it a comforting squeeze as if sensing how fragile she felt in that moment. "Come, let us speak of others thing. I hope you can indulge your old father with tales of what mischief you've been up to while you've been away?" 

"I would like nothing more," Elizabeth smiled. As she let the worries of the journey fade into the back of her mind, she let herself settle onto the bench more comfortably and she began telling Elrond about the various places that she had went. They spoke for several hours, and was only until Lindir come to tell them of dinner did they finally stop. Elrond pressed a kiss to the crown of her head after he hugged her gently, and her heart felt at ease after they had spoken, and perhaps a bit foolish for letting her fears get to her so. 

* * *

Bilbo raced down the hallway as fast as his fuzzy foot would let him. He huffed with exertion because Thorin obvious was not waiting on him. The hobbit was baffled when Thorin had asked for Bilbo to accompany him and Balin to an audience with Lord Elrond. Perhaps Thorin thought that Bilbo's presence might make the elf lord more favorable towards their cause since the elves had been quite genially towards Bilbo, though he did feel a marginal of guilt over that. Thorin did not slow nor did he halt as they reached a pair of large silver doors, and the guards standing watch opened the doors without a word. 

Thorin spared them one quick suspicious look before he strode through then he came to such an abrupt halt that Bilbo nearly bowled right into him. The hobbit stumbled backwards, his face scrunched up into confusion before he leaned to peer around the dwarf to see what have given him such pause. The room had been built into the side of the cliff and was an open balcony with the waterfall running down from above like a curtain between them and the night sky. The moon shined brightly, painting the entire room in hues of blues and Elizabeth in a golden gown stood before a dais made from quartz that stood higher than his waist. He blinked at the sight of Elizabeth as her fingers tapped across the dais aimlessly. She froze when she looked up and saw them. Judging by the shock on her face, they were not who she expected. Thorin's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?" He demanded, his voice harsher than he had intended. 

"I was invited?" Elizabeth said, uncertainly. She blinked once and twice before she shook her head to recover from her shock. "Lord Elrond requested my presence." 

"Did he?" Thorin stated, his voice mock polite. 

"He did," Elizabeth said, her eyebrows lifted. 

"You would be glad for her presence," Gandalf stated from where he had been quietly puffing on his pipe watching the entire scene from under the brim of his hat. His eye twinkled with ill hid amusement. "If there is anyone that could convince Lord Elrond to grant us his aid, it is his daughter." 

"Daughter?" Balin blinked. 

"Adopted daughter," Elizabeth stated, hastily. Her face flushed, and she gave the wizard a glare. "Note the lack of pointed ears," she stated, dryly and she turned her gaze back towards Thorin who was staring at her strangely. "Have I not mentioned that before? I felt that I have," she commented, with a grin that was more confident than she actually felt. 

"Why did you keep it a secret?" Thorin asked, his shoulders taunt. He looked like snake coiled so tight, about to strike if given reason. Elizabeth didn't wish to give him reason to, and admittedly she knew that she should have said something long before now. 

"You…never asked?" Elizabeth replied, hesitantly. 

Thorin gave her a deadpanned look. "That is a cheap answer," he told her, flatly. 

"It is," Elizabeth nodded, not offended by the harsh retort. She rolled her shoulders before she heaved a deep, rough sigh. "My past…is not something that I can talk about easily. It is not a joy nor a pleasure for me to think on it and I suppose I just got used to not having anyone to question me about it. I…apologize for not mentioning something earlier. I should have," she said, with genuine regret. 

Thorin stood there for a long moment before he inclined his head. "It matters little now," Thorin stated, and he watched a flicker of hurt flash across Elizabeth's face. It was gone as soon as it arrived and he watched the proud woman nodded in acceptance before she walked towards Gandalf entering into a conversation too light for Thorin's ears. The Company's leader was not surprised when the hobbit found his way over to the woman and wizard's side. He had felt a flush of anger when the wizard revealed Elizabeth's connection to the elves, but it had been quickly put out with the genuine apology that had followed. A huff of amusement from beside of him made him turn to look at Balin who was smirking ever so slightly. 

"Why are you smirking like that?" Thorin demanded. 

"Smirking am I? And what exactly am I smirking like?" Balin asked, his eyebrows raised as he attempted to feign innocence. He clasped his hands in front of him, with a genial look upon his face. 

"Like the cat that ate the canary," Thorin stated, crossing his arms across his broad chest and stared down at Balin not in the least bit fooled. "Why are you smirking like that?" The Company's leader repeated, tersely. 

"Oh, it's nothing," Balin shrugged. "Just that you were watching her," his eyes flickered towards Elizabeth pointedly before they turned back towards Thorin. "Quite intently I might. One might dare to even say that you were enthralled." 

A flush appeared underneath the hair of his beard, though only those who knew him as long as Balin would have been able to see it for what it was. Thorin cleared his throat, and gave Balin a look that was not amused. "I am simply taking the wizard's advice. She knows the elves better than we, and so I merely looked to her in this moment…for guidance," Thorin finished, confidently. It took all his will not wince at the look of incredulity that Balin sent him. 

"You've never been keen to follow the wizard's advice before," Balin pointed, with a shake of his head. He stroked his beard and looked over at Elizabeth. She was not all that he expected, and he was certain that was a good thing. 

Thorin stood silent, arms crossed. 

"So you look to her for guidance," Balin conceded, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "And what _guidance_ do you expect to find in those swaying hips, I wonder?" His smirk broaden when he watched Thorin's eyes widened ever so slightly and his stony expression become on of shock. 

"I was not looking at her hindquarters," Thorin hissed out, underneath his breath. He had been looking at Elizabeth quite intently, and his eyes may have roamed over certain curves, but he had _not_ been staring. He straightened his spine, and stared at Balin stonily. He opened his mouth to further protest only to be silenced when the doors opened, and Lord Elrond strode into the room. 

Elrond held himself with impeccable grace as entered the room and he came to a halt in front of Thorin, his expression one of benevolence. Thorin kept his face a blank canvas though his eyes held thinly veiled suspicion as he looked up at the elf lord. Elizabeth watched the silent exchange, it was like watching two titans about to clash. She was holding her breath, and she knew Bilbo was waiting with bated breath as well. "Do you know why you find yourself in my halls, Thorin Oakenshield?" Lord Elrond inquired, his voice echoed through the room and there was a force behind it that seemed tremble through the floor. 

Elizabeth could feel the hair on her arms stand on end as her eyes flickered between the both of them. If Thorin felt the power within Elrond, the only indication he gave was the slight squint of his eyes. "Because I was led by a deceitful and meddlesome wizard," Thorin retorted, without batting an eyelash. 

Gandalf puffed, smoke fumble out of his mouth as he looked at the dwarf more than a little offended. Elizabeth bit back a snort while Bilbo discretely hid a smirk behind his hand. Balin only heaved a sigh, and Lord Elrond's eyebrows went to his hairline. "Answer my question that does not. That is _how_ you ended up here," Lord Elrond swept past the dwarf and he came to stand before the dais. "It does not answer why." 

Thorin glowered. "Our business is no concern of elves," he stated, darkly and his lip curled upward as his hand went to clutch the map hidden in a breast pocket of his vest. The key around his neck felt very heavy. 

"For goodness sake, Thorin," Gandalf stared at the dwarf in exasperation, "show him the map." 

"It is the legacy of my people," Thorin defended, his expression guarded. He looked much like the dwarf that had Elizabeth had seen when Gandalf had suggested they come to Rivendell. Suspicious and mistrustful and Elizabeth felt a sense of mourning for the king-in-exile that found it so hard to let anyone in his confidence. "It is mine to protect, as are its secrets." 

"Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves. Your pride will be your downfall," Gandalf declared, fiercely. "You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle-earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond, or never know the secrets that you so fiercely guard." 

Thorin looked down, his fingers brushed the edges of the map with a deep and thoughtful frown upon his face. Finally, he withdrew the map out of his vest, and Balin looked at him aghast. "Thorin," Balin protested, but Thorin gave one stern look before he looked at the elf lord. Reluctantly, he handed the map to Lord Elrond who inclined his head, and opened the map laying it upon the dais. 

"Erebor." Lord Elrond stuided the map with keen eyes. His frown deepened, and he stood there for a long moment looking over the map before he turned towards Thorin. "What is your interest in this map?" 

Thorin almost snarled. He knew the wizard had already given up the secrecy of their quest to the elf, but he managed to bite his tongue. Gandalf cleared his throat. "It's mainly academic," the wizard stated, dismissively. "As you know, this sort of artifact sometimes contains hidden text. You still read Ancient Dwarvish, do you not?" 

Elrond nodded, his eyes turned back towards the map. Elizabeth could see the thoughts rushing through his mind, and she held her hands nervously as Bilbo shuffled his feet. As the edge of moonlight came through the waterfall, Elrond suddenly realized something about the map. " _Cirth Ithil_ ," Elrond stated, a note of awe in his voice. 

"Moon runes," Gandalf translated, with a smile. "Of course. An easy thing to miss." Elrond spoke quick and sharp sentence in elvish, and then as if by some spell, the waterfall parted allowing all the moonlight to flood through. The moonlight glistened across the map, and blue glowing runes etched themselves upon the map for all to see. Elizabeth stifled a gasp of wonder while Bilbo looked at the map with wide eyes. "Well in this case, that is true," Elrond commented, his fingers tracing the runes thoughtfully. "Moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written. These runes were written on the light of the last crescent moon of spring nearly two hundred years ago. It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield; the same moon shines upon us tonight." 

"Can you translate them?" Thorin asked. It appeared that moon runes were similar to khuzdul, but slightly different for he was not able to fully translate them himself. 

"Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole," Elrond translated, with a curious frown upon his face. 

"Durin's Day?" Bilbo asked the silent question in Elizabeth's head. 

"It is the start of the dwarves' new year, when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together," Gandalf explained, idly. His fingers twirled his staff, his eyes were narrowed and his head were filled with many thoughts. 

"That is only a few months time away," Elizabeth stated, her fingers pressed against her right temple. "With the distance from here to there, it will be trying to make it in time. Though not impossible," she added, a glance over at Thorin. 

"The lass is right. Durin's Day will soon be upon us," Balin stated, a troubled look on his face. "Though we have just enough time." 

"Time? For what?" Bilbo asked. 

"To find the entrance," Thorin stated, his eyes locked on the 'x' upon the map. "We have to be standing at the exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened." 

"So this is your purpose?" Elrond twisted towards Thorin, his dark eyes pinned the dwarf to the spot. "To enter the Mountain." 

Thorin's eyes sharpened. "What of it?" Thorin growled, taking a step forward for he refused to be cowed by the elf lord. 

  
[](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/ch16_zpsnpbrjqqe.gif.html)

"There are some who would not deem it wise," Elrond said, gravely. His brown eyes flickered to Elizabeth for the briefest of seconds before his thinned out and he looked back at the dwarf. "I will not stop you from leaving whenever you wish, and I will give you supplies to ease your way. Although Mithrandir is called to a meeting of the White Council tomorrow to discuss the implications of this quest." 

Thorin tensed. "Then we depart tonight," Thorin said, his face hard as he snatched the map off the dais and thrust it into an inside pocket of his gambeson, safely held against the steady beat of his heart. 

Gandalf shook his head, stroking his chin. "No. You must be wait until the meeting is started then make your escape," the wizard stated, certainly. 

"You wish to distract him with the meeting?" Elizabeth worked out their motives. The White Council held the stability of Middle-Earth in their hands, and this quest could fundamentally change that. It was unlikely they would give a blessing, and let them go their own way. "To buy us time to escape?" 

"That is my intention, yes," Gandalf nodded. 

"He may not be so easily fooled. He is great among the Wise for a reason," Elrond stated, his heavy brow drawn downward. 

"And the chief of my order and the Head of the Council. I am aware," Gandalf stated, dryly. "But however deep his knowledge may be, his pride is even greater. He takes ill with meddling, Elrond. You and I are both aware that he will not take this dwarves presences lightly. He must believe that your company and Elizabeth still reside in Rivendell," Gandalf looked at Thorin beseechingly. "If you are gone by the time that he arrives, then he will make great overtures to stop you. If he believes you are here, then he will have no reason not to go to the meeting and you can then slip away." 

"And we do not want Saruman against us," Elizabeth said, her expression very grave. She had known first hand how Saruman could be when threatened. Every year he would arrive in Rivendell, and he would demand to see her. He would hold an inquisition over Elizabeth, and he would treat Elizabeth like something that he scraped off the bottom of his shoe. She knew that he capable of great good, she could see a light in him, but there was also all knowing arrogance that clouded him that left him close minded. 

Thorin's gaze swerved between Elrond and Gandalf, a knot drawn between his brow as he began to realize the full gravity of the situation. "Will he pose a threat to us?" Thorin demanded, looking towards Lord Elrond for a straight answer. 

Elrond looked faintly shocked to hear the question said aloud, though he could not deny he had thought something quite similar. "If he thinks it is in Middle Earth's best interest, yes," Elrond admitted, heavily. 

"Saruman takes his position very serious, as he should. However there are times that he often short sighted, especially when change is on the horizon," Gandalf explained, running a hand down his beard as he stared at the map as if it would unlock all the answers they needed. "He is not one to accept change so lightly though it is necessary, and inevitable like the seasons. Dwarves marching upon Erebor to reclaim the glory of an era with no small threat of releasing a dragon, with the very woman he believes rightly shouldn't exist given her lineage. He will be most displeased, but I believe the White Council can convince him to leave things be…for now." 

Elizabeth shot him a look, wondering what he exactly meant about her lineage and was half tempted to ask however Thorin spoke up, interrupting said thought. "You did not have to warn us, and yet you did,” Thorin’s eyes were locked on Lord Elrond with no small amount of suspicion and wariness in them. “Why?” It was a quiet demand, but a demand nonetheless. Elizabeth was not sure that Thorin knew how to simply ask anything, for everything he said came out as a barking command, or a sharp demand. 

Centuries of learned patience was the only reason Lord Elrond’s response was nothing more than an eyebrow cast upward at Thorin’s suspicious nature. "Elizabeth is my daughter, in every sense of the word, and she vouched for you and your company. She conveyed an unfaltering allegiance to you and yours and Elizabeth never gives her loyalty to those undeserving of it. As much as I wish that she would stay here, she is determined to follow you on this quest, and after her words on your behalf, I cannot fault her reasoning. Yours is a noble quest, Thorin son of Thrain. I only hope that it will stay as such.” 

Thorin gritted his teeth together, and stared up at the elf with narrowed eyes. A glowing recommendation from a leaf eater it may have been, but he knew what the words at the end were meant to imply, and it made an anger unfurl in the pit of his stomach though he managed to keep a harsh rebuttal behind his teeth. 

Elizabeth let out a soft sigh, and turned her eyes from Thorin, casting them upon her father. "I will be back one day, Ada," she told him softly and with care. "I promise you that." 

"I will hold you to that," Elrond said, with a genial nod before he swept out, followed closely by Gandalf, and Elizabeth turned towards Thorin, who glared in her direction. 

Her mouth opened and closed before she gathered herself. "I went to Elrond with no intention of speaking of you. He was the one who broached the subject with," Elizabeth defended herself, faintly. Thorin drew himself up and she prepared herself to be yelled at. When he finally turned away disapprovingly, she felt her shoulders slump as a pang of hurt rushed through her. Balin gave her a sympathetic look before he turned and followed his leader. Elizabeth stood there silent with Bilbo at her side, a bit taken aback by all the events. 

"I suppose…we should go get ready?" The hobbit suggested, confused. He felt positively dismal at the thought of leaving the valley, he longed to stay, but he could not deny the wish to see where else this journey would take them. 

"Yeah," Elizabeth inclined her head. "We should." 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER!  
> References and Languages:  
> 1.) Mae g'ovannen!" (elvish) Welcome  
> 2.) "Elen sila lúmenn' omentielvo." (elvish) A star shines on the hour of our meeting  
> 3.) "Melloneamin." (elvish) My lady  
> 4.) Elrond's song: It is "Into the West" by Annie Lennox that has been translated into Quenya. It is only part of the song, you can find the full translation by using google.  
> 5.) Ah im, ú-'erin veleth lîn? (elvish) 'Do I not also have your love?'  
> 6.) Gerich veleth nîn, ada. (elvish) 'You have my love, daddy.'  
> 7.) Balin teasing Thorin: It was inspired by banter between Wynne and Alistair from Dragon Age: Origins.


	17. The Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT! GLAD YOU ALL LIKE THE FIC! :D I didn't have a song that really inspired this fic, but if you have one you'd like to recommend, let me know. :D  
> Thank you GrammarGrrrl, Catann, moon_goddess_118, sweetsgal, Dusk_Lilly, earedien, kalin128, annievogel90, greasergirlalex, Starkid_Impala015, Just4Me, mehg11, EbonyLeijon, edelweissmaia, DanteOphydian, RegalMagnus, fairykia, Elashor_Seger, Dances_With_Vulcans, candy_hearts, i11iad, AgentLilyAEvans, hwinde and 49 guests who gave my story kudos!  
> Thank you, Avendia, RosetheBookWurm, aryannaoakenshield, Dusk_Lily, Starkid_Impala015, AgentLilyAEvans, candy_hearts, i11iad, for the bookmarks!  
> Thank you for all the comments!
> 
> This chapter is inspired by:  
> "I Found" by Amber Run  
> "Falling in the Black" by Skillet  
> "Hide and Seek" by Amber Run

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 

[](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/ezgif-1501675097_zpsudwrrzb0.gif.html)

'The Fall'

* * *

Sunset had come, and before the dawn of the morning to come…they would be gone. Elizabeth stood upon her balcony where she watched Lady Galadriel's arrival, and the bright lady had looked up and caught her gaze. There was a knowing smile was upon her lips, and Elizabeth had a feeling that Mithrandir's scheme was not as secretive as the wizard believed. Though she was not surprised that Lady Galadriel already knew. Elizabeth's faint smile fell from her face as she watched whom followed closely behind the lady. _Saruman,_ she thought with more than little distaste as a shiver ran down her spine. She had no warm feelings towards the White Wizard, and that was entirely mutual. 

With a pinched expression, Elizabeth turned away from the scene and walked back into her room. Her belongings all set upon her bed neatly, waiting to be packed and she could hear the dwarves bustling outside. The dwarves had been most contentious over the elves abetting them, though they had nothing too out of line. Most grumbles, and scowls. Through the open door, Elizabeth paused in her pacing to look up Thorin. She regarded him with a carefully composed face, for every time it seemed that she had gotten somewhere with the Company's leader…she only moved ten paces back. It was an utterly mad dance, and one that she did not know why she participating in at all. 

With a huff, Elizabeth walked over to shut the door quietly before she turned to her bed and proceeded to ready her knapsack. Strider who had silently lingered in the corner of the room gave a light snort underneath his breath. "You look at him rather intently, almost ravenously one could say," Strider commented as Elizabeth folded up a spare cloak to fit in the bottom of her knapsack. They would not have the aid of horses to carry their supplies now, so the lighter the load was more preferable though Dwalin had stated he could carry as much as any horse. Thorin immediately shot down the idea before any bets could be made, much to Nori's disappointment. "One would think you've never seen a dwarf before." 

She halted for the briefest of moment then continued with the task of packing. "I know not of what you speak," Elizabeth stated, simply. She carefully avoided her brother's gaze for he always had an annoying habit of knowing when she was holding things back. 

"Indeed not?" The hint of tongue-in-cheek was hard to miss, and when Elizabeth gave him a glare, Estel looked back at her serenely. "It's almost as you wish he'd feel your gaze upon him. To have him acknowledge you in the way that you acknowledge him, but what would have him see if his gaze turned your way?" 

"Speak plainly, dear brother," Elizabeth stated, her eyebrow arched. "For riddles and metaphors are a wizard's craft and you are far from a wizard." 

Strider's lips twitched. "You are enamored with him," the ranger stated, his eyebrow cocked upward because he, too, had learned the art of it from Elrond. "It is not only approval that you seek from him, but for him to look upon you as with respect and as an equal." 

Elizabeth finished packing her supplies without a word while she mulled over Strider's words, feeling them too keenly for her liking. As she tied a knot to secure the knapsack, she looked up at him. "Sometimes, dear brother, I wonder where you come up with such idle tales," she stated, her voice light. Her gaze moved over the ranger, and her smile immediate fled replaced by a frown. "You are taking leave?" She noted that he was indeed wearing the colors of the ranger once more. 

"I must," Strider stated, his voice flat. 

Elizabeth blinked, then frowned heavily. "I thought that you intended to spend as much time as you could spare in Rivendell with Arwen before you duties took you away?" She asked, a knot of concern on her brow. His tense posture told of great inner turmoil, and Elizabeth begin to suspect that his talk with Ada did not go as well as hers had gone. 

Strider sighed, heavily. With one hand, he slowly pushed the door closed with his other hand he pinched the bridge of his nose, and his lips twisted with displeasure. "I asked Lord Elrond for Arwen's hand in marriage," he confided, his voice held the same toneless quality as it had in his previous statement. Strider only appeared aloof when danger was about, or when he felt emotionally compromised. He had always cared a stoic like bearing even as a child, but such pretenses fell around family. The only reason he would put one up in front of her now is if he believed she would be of the same mind as their father. 

Elizabeth gnawed on her lower lip. "And his response?" She inquired, cautiously. 

"He would not give his blessings, and he said he wouldn't give it until the day that I sit upon the throne of Gondor and the lands are united in unity once more," Strider stated, a tone of thinly veiled bitterness in his voice. He clenched his hands to his sides, and she gave a shake of his head. "I thought that he understood. I have no wish to bid on a throne of old, nor do I have the any ambition to rule a country. I am content with the life of a ranger, and Arwen said she would have me as I am. That a crown, or lack of one change the way she felt for me." 

"Estel…" Elizabeth looked at him, sadly. "I know that what you and Arwen have is true, and I know no matter where you are in your lives that you would accept each other unconditionally. However, Arwen will be giving up a great deal to live a life along side of you. She will not be able to pass to the West, she will never see her father, nor her brother, nor any other elf she had ever cared about again in the life after making that choice." 

"I know this, Elizabeth," Strider stated, tersely. His eyes flashed and his jaw clenched. "You need not remind me of it. I know the sacrifice that Arwen is making." 

"No, I don’t believe you do. If you did, then you would understand why Elrond has made such conditions. It is not unreasonable of a father to wish to know that his child will be provided for, especially when said child when she passes from a mortal life will be in a place beyond his gaze. And it is not only for Arwen's benefit that he does this, Estel," Elizabeth reached out, clasping her brother's hand tightly in hers. "He loves you as his son. He wishes for the best life for you and Arwen, where he can be content with knowing that _both_ of you will be happy." 

Strider bowed his head, his expression stubborn and his jaw set. He knew that Elizabeth spoken truth, but that could not fully relieve the stinging ache in his chest. It was as if he was not good enough in Lord Elrond's eyes and his words had hit Estel where they could do the most damage. There was a sharp rap at Elizabeth's door, and she walked over. She pulled it open, and Dwalin stood there. "Ye about done in here, lassie?" He inquired, his eyes flickered briefly to Strider before he looked back down at Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth drew in a breath, craning her neck and looking over at Strider before she nodded. "Yes, I am about done," she told him, with a half smile. Dwalin nodded, satisfied before he walked away and Elizabeth clicked the door back in place. 

"I suppose I should take my leave," Strider sighed, heavily. His grey eyes met Elizabeth's and he could not conceal the concern on his features. "If you are ever in need of aid, at any time…you know that you can call and I will come." 

"I know, little brother," she said, her lips curving into a soft, fond smile. She walked him exit through the balcony, and down the stairs there before she turned back towards the door. As she stepped out into the main room, she saw the dwarves cast dark looks at the retreating elves. 

"We need supplies, Thorin," Balin stated, as soon as the door was shut. Elizabeth paused, briefly and took in the tension hanging in the air like a weight over everyone's head. 

"I do not like the thought of being indebted to an elf lord," Thorin grouched, and he had good reason inside his mind. He did not wish for such a debt upon his head, and perhaps it was an old hurt that contributed to this decision. How could the elves offer aid now, when they had not before? When children starved, women violated, and the men cut down? All over the gold they had supposedly taken from the mountain. 

Elizabeth watched internal struggle play out across his face, and stepped towards him while she glanced over at the others who had fallen into the routine of packing. "My father once said, 'The fire you kindle for your enemy often burns yourself more than them,'" Elizabeth commented quietly. She felt Thorin tense and he sent a dark look in her direction. 

"You agree with the wizard then?" He snarled. He had come to the realization that she had spoke of their plight to Lord Elrond with no ill intentions, which help simmer his anger. However, he was still far from pleased. "That we should take hospitality from the elves, and be glad for it?" 

"Whether or not, I agree with him is not the matter. This is your quest, and ultimately the choice is yours and the company will follow you no matter what you do. All I ask is that you do not let out hurts blind you to potential allies or potential aid," Elizabeth stated, diplomatically. 

"Allies? You think we will find allies in these tree shaggers? That all the supplies that they lend us will not come without a price?" Thorin thundered, and Elizabeth tried not to flinch back from it. "From elves who gave us no aid during our darkest times?" 

"I…" She hesitated for she had no good answer. The grudge between the elves and dwarves always seemed a bit childish to her. Two races, essentially cousins of a sort, that had no greater enemy to fight than each other. "I cannot say why my father did not offer you aid during your people's days of wandering and I will offer no excuses on his or the elves’ behalf. Only they can answer that," Elizabeth said, her voice very soft. "But not all whom reside in Rivendell will seek to stop you from reclaiming your homeland, Mister Thorin. You may not believe Lord Elrond's word, but please take faith in mine. Lord Elrond has given you aid, do not throw it away and cut off your nose to spite your face." 

Thorin still looked stubborn. 

"Balin words are wise," Elizabeth stated, earnestly. "You may not like the elves, nor the position that you have found yourself and I do not think one of the Company will blame you if you choice to leave the supplies the elves have given…but will you have the same ease of conscious if one of them is hurt and those supplies could have helped them?" 

Thorin twisted, and gave her a look. Though his expression was stern, she saw the knot of doubt upon his brow and his silence spoke more than words could say in that moment. 

"I thought not," Elizabeth nodded. "I can tell you, if it will ease your worry, that Lord Elrond is not one to offer aid and then expect some kind of compensation for it. He is not…he is not like the Elven King, if that is what your reservations stem from." 

Thorin's eyes flashed at the mention of Thranduil, and Elizabeth felt horrible for prodding a wound that had never healed. The story of Thranduil turned his back on the dwarves was one often spoken of around the campfire at night, one that had shocked her and made her stomach turn violently. The Elven King had never been one of her favorite people. His frosty demeanor was one that had always left her on edge and he had been polite to her during her stay in the Greenwoods, even if a bit cold. She had never had true cause to dislike him. Not until the dwarves came along that was. She could feel the injustice in what happened, and she knew it was a lingering worry for to make for Erebor they would come close, if not venture, into his territory. None expected aid or welcome from the Elven king. 

"Would it make you feel any better," Elizabeth continued on smoothly, "if I told you that my father and he do not get along? I know not what stirred the discord between the pair, likely some kind of ancient history. However, I do know that the Elven King would be very displeased with Lord Elrond's aid of you. It just might hurt his delicate senses." 

Elizabeth was laying it on a bit thick, though it was quite true. There was a strange relationship between the Lord Elrond and King Thranduil, an active dislike between them like a rivalry between brothers who were bored and with nothing better to do. Thorin crossed his arms over his chest, and looked down at her. There was a hint of a smile playing across his lips, and his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "I do believe you are just as bad as my nephews. Trying to stir up mischief," he told her, his voice reprimanding yet there was a bit of reluctant approval in his gaze. 

"I do not know what you mean," Elizabeth fluttered her eyelashes innocently. "I just merely thought that you would find the thought interesting is all." 

"Hmmm," Thorin saw right through it. "Very well. We will take the supplies." 

"And if it makes Thranduil's day worse all the better, right?" Elizabeth looked at him, knowingly. 

"Indeed," a quick flash of a smile flickered across his face before his normal stoicism returned, and he inclined his head towards her before he walked over to Dwalin. 

Elizabeth watched him, shaking her head. "Dwarves," she whispered underneath her breath, and then she jumped when the door opened. A jolt of surprise flooded through her. "Ada? What are you doing here? I thought you had to be at the White Council?" She walked towards him, her head cocked to the side. 

Elrond gave her a brief smile. "I came to say farewell," he clasped his hands around hers and held them tight. There was something in his expression that made Elizabeth's stomach knot up. "I had hopes that you would stay, but I know there is nothing in the world that can sway you when you have committed yourself to your choice. I will miss you greatly," he told her, his fingers squeezing her hands. 

"I will miss you, too, Ada," Elizabeth smiled at him. 

There was a severity in Elrond's expression as he pulled his hands away from his daughter's. "Thorin Oakenshield," Elrond leveled a look at him. "A moment of your time, if I may?" He requested, and then swept out of the room expecting the dwarf to follow him. 

Thorin gave a great scowl, but he made no vocal protest. He stood as tall as he could, with his back ramrod straight as he followed him out to the hallway. He found the Elvish Lord standing before a painting depicting the Fall of Sauron, the elf seemed to lost in thought. "You wish to speak to me?" Thorin inquired, while carefully restrain all his distrust of elves out of his voice. 

Elrond eyes flickered to the dwarf, his face impassive. "Let me be clear, Thorin Oakenshield, that I am not certain that allowing you leave is the wisest course of action," Lord Elrond told him, his eyes were piercing and grave. "I cannot see this quest ending in nothing, but flames…however, there are those who see it differently than I. Those who champion you most dearly." 

"You speak of Elizabeth," Thorin noted, his eyes crinkled in as he tilted his head. He could not deny that claim, and he wouldn't even try. 

"Yes." Elrond inclined his head. "She believes that great good can come from this quest, and perhaps she is right. The ways of destiny are ever shifting with the choices that we make. Perhaps the right choice will be made, perhaps it will not. It is not up to me to decide that." 

Thorin stared at him, steadily. "Why speak to me of this? I thought you had made your thoughts perfectly known the past night?" The dwarf demanded. 

Lord Elrond stood there for a long moment, silent and contemplating. "The supplies are merely a matter of courtesy. I help travelers often on these roads, I would have helped you regardless of which path you would have chosen. However, you have one thing that I treasure most in all of Middle Earth…you do understand what I mean, do you not?" 

Thorin paused, his eyes flickered with understanding. "Yes, I do," he commented, his voice a light rumble as he inclined his head. 

"I would ask that you take care of her as if she were one of your own," Elrond stated his request, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. 

Thorin stated, startled for a second. The elven lord was completely serious in this request, and Thorin as much as he hated, he acknowledged the concern in those old, wise eyes. "Elizabeth will not come to harm…if it is in my power to stop it," Thorin promised, though he knew that there was a chance that he could not keep it. The road they were on was not one that would come without great cost. 

Lord Elrond knew this as well, but it was a request he had to make anyways. "Very well. I bid you farwell, Thorin Oakenshield, and good luck," and with that Lord Elrond swept away down the corridor without so much as another look back. Thorin watched him go, and there was an unsettled sensation in the pit of his stomach. A foreboding knot that twisted and churned and Thorin did not care for it one bit. 

* * *

The White Council were in the pavilion as the faint glow of dawn began to dust the edge of the horizon in pink and purples hues. Gandalf sat at the table with Saruman adjacent from him, and while Galadriel stared out at the dawn. Elrond paced back and forth, his right hand twisting at the ring on his left hand. 

"Tell me, Gandalf, what were you thinking bringing a hobbit on a journey that could very well alter the fate of Middle Earth?" Saruman replied, scathingly. "Surely you haven't gotten so desperate in you schemes to rely on such soft folk." 

Gandalf narrowed his eyes, his benign expression fading into something thunderous. "Soft as butter hobbits can be, and yet they are sometimes as tough as old tree roots. Just because you do not see that value in them or their race does meant that others are blind to it. And Bilbo Baggins is half of nothing." 

Saruman gave dismiss flick of his hand. "The concerns of hobbits will be yours only to ponder. My worries lie in an entirely different matter. Elizabeth Morgan," the White Wizard stated, his voice seemed more throughout the room and the temperature plummeted. "The child has not been a child in ages. No longer a ward of Rivendell, and I believe it is time to bring her fate back into question. Especially since she allied herself with these dwarves on this ill fated quest." 

"It is not ill-fated," Gandalf defended. 

"Ill-advised then," Saruman countered, smoothly. 

Gandalf shook his head in denial. While his main concern was dealing with the dragon, he did believe it was Thorin's right to reclaim the mountain. "I'm simply doing what I feel to be right," the Grey Wizard tried to get the matter back on hand. He doubted Lord Elrond, judging by his stern face, would appreciate this Council to become another debate over Elizabeth. 

Lady Galadriel craned her head towards him. "The dragon has long been on your mind," she commented, her voice soft yet filled with strength. 

"This is true, my lady." The grey wizard heaved a deep sigh, clasping his hands together. "Smaug owes allegiance to no one. But if he should side with the enemy, a dragon could be used to terrible effect." 

"What enemy? Gandalf, the enemy is defeated," Saruman drew himself upward in the chair, and stared with open disapproval at the other wizard. "Sauron is vanquished. He can never regain his full strength." 

Elrond sighed. "Gandalf, for four hundred years, we have lived in peace," the elf lord stated, a heavily on his face. "A hard-won, watchful peace." 

"Are we? Are we at peace?" Gandalf questioned, a hard doubt in his words. He looked over his fellow White Council members. "Trolls have come down from the mountains. They are raiding villages, destroying farms. Orcs have attacked us on the road." 

"Hardly a prelude to war," Elrond stated. 

"Always you must meddle, looking for trouble where none exists. You puts thoughts of reclaiming a homeland in Thorin Oakenshield's head, and even worse you put that woman in a positions to influence him," Saruman chided, his expression tight. 

"Saruman," Gandalf said, warningly. 

"No. We have put off this discussion long enough," Saruman the White stated. "Ninety years is far too long. She is now meddling in affair that could come to shape our very world and that only is great cause to be concerned." 

"Elizabeth has done nothing to warrant your suspicions," Elrond stated, firmly. He turned a quelling look on the wizard, his expression carefully blank. His eyes however, held a cold fire in them. "For ninety years she has lived in Middle Earth, and most of those spent under my watchful eye. Where she has traveled she has brought good, not harm. I will not hear another word against her, especially here." 

Saruman looked like he very much wished to argue that, but he held back his tongue. The White Council quickly went back to the matter at hand, and an hour later Lindir came in to tell them the dwarves were missing. Gandalf shared a look with Elrond, and held back a smile at the success. It made Saruman's blustered and raged all that more amusing. 

* * *

It saddened Elizabeth to leave Rivendell once again like a thief in the night, but with her good-byes, it was thankfully not followed by a heavy heart. After they had secured their supplies, they fled from the elven city and took the route that Elizabeth proposed. It was the same way she had snuck out last time, and it felt like she had closed that page of uncertainty in her life in away by taking it now. There was no one, but the star's watchful gaze they snuck out. It all went by in a blur, the mad rush and the effort to stay hidden, but by the time morning shined down upon them they were far from Rivendell into the foothills. 

There was no stop for breakfast, only apples passed around for Thorin wished to make the gap between Rivendell and them even wider. While he allowed the pace to slow, he did not let them stop to rest. Noon passed, and Bilbo had whimpered for they had not stopped for lunch and his stomach was growling. Elizabeth shared some lembas bread she had in her pack, much to his relief. They hiked through the wilderness of Middle-earth, over ranges, and had reached the base of the Misty Mountains by nightfall. 

They started up the way, the path easy at the beginning however it steadily grew narrower the further along they got and Thorin called to set up camp on the cliffside before the way got too narrow. They could begin the hard cross at dawn, Thorin had decided. The relief that flooded across the group was tangible, and everyone buckled down for the night. 

Oin and Gloin went off to gather wood for the fire while Bombur set about getting the food ready to cook. Elizabeth offered to help so she settled on a rock beside him and carefully slit the dagger across the belly of the rabbit that Kili had killed, and began to carefully work the skin free. "You quite skilled at that," Bombur noted, why he stirred in herbs from a pouch he kept in his knapsack. "Do you do a lot of hunting?" 

"I do," Elizabeth inclined her head, with a light smile. "Though not as a way of life. I find myself wandering through the lands and that often means hunting and forging." She passed him the rabbit meat piece by piece as she finished cleaning the rabbit. "Are you a cook by trade, Mister Bombur?" She thought to ask. 

"Not at first." Bombur said, with a fond smile upon his face as he cooked. His fiddled with his light green for a long moment. "I worked along my brother as a toymaker for many years, though I was not as talented as he. Cooking only became my passion when I found myself besotted with a dwarven lass, Brunhilde. She was like sunshine, with her golden hair and her bright smile." Bombur spoke and there was no mistaken the love and pride in his voice. His eyes grew misty at the thought of her for he missed her greatly. "She was a baker, and I fell in love with her as did many. However she swore off all suitors unless they could match her skill in cooking. She said the way to a happy life was through learning the heart and the heart like the stomach loved food." 

"So you learned how to cook," Elizabeth smiled. The dwarves were quite private with their language, and themselves. However it did not take words to see that they treasured family greatly. 

"I learned how to cook," Bombur nodded. 

"And whatever happened with the lass?" She asked. 

"We adore each others and each other's cooking," Bombur said, with a fondness in his misty eyes. "Have five children and another on the way." 

"You must miss them greatly," Elizabeth said, with a sympathetic smile. 

"Aye, I do," Bombur agreed, wistfully. "But I know by being here that I do them proud and I would not have it any other way." Despite being the butt of many jokes due to his sizes, 

Elizabeth saw that Bombur had a strong sense of loyalty and had a wisdom to him that many did not see. With five children and one on the way, she supposed that shouldn't be such a surprise. 

Oin grumbled as he past them and dropped his logs into the pile. "Ah, my back," he grunted, and straightened his spine with a snap. "That'll do it," he said, with a sigh of relief before he plopped down on the log next to Bifur who sat there carving a piece of wood with a small knife. 

"There you are, Bombur," Gloin dropped the last few logs beside Bombur. "Plenty to get the food going, and then plenty to keep us warm through the night." He sat down beside his brother, and ran his hands through his beard that was still damp from the rain with a grimace. "What's all the chatter about?" 

"Just telling the lass about my dear sweet Brunhilde," Bombur said, as he dropped the last bit of meat into the pot. 

"Ah!" Gloin's eyes gleamed. He reached underneath his beard and pulled out a large copper locket. He flipped it open, and leaned across his brother to show it off proudly to Elizabeth. "This is my beloved wife, Ailmi, finest beard in all the Blue Mountains! And that's my wee lad, Gilmi." 

Elizabeth tilted her head slightly. Though it was strange to see a beard on a woman, that did not make the woman in the portrait any less beautiful. The artist captured her smile and gleam of intelligent and stubbornness. Her eyes flickered towards the picture of Gilmi, and commented, "Quite the handsome pair." 

"Aren't they?" Gloin practically beamed. "Let me tell you of the time…" Elizabeth found herself listening to Gloin's stories about his wife and son. She was honestly fascinated by his stories, though the other were eye rolling and groaning. Apparently Gloin liked to talk about his family a lot. It was only when the food was nearly done did the dwarf wrap up his conversation. "He was in a right fit that he could not come along on this journey. Aye, he is a stubborn lad and would have followed if not for his mother dragging him by his beard back up the mountain," Gloin finished, with a laugh. 

"He sounds like quite the character," Elizabeth commented, handing the locket back to Gloin who hid it back underneath his beard. "Much like his father." 

"Truer words were never spoken," Oin gave a light laugh. 

Gloin shifted his gaze towards Bombur who stirred the pot, and check the stew. "He is. Bombur, is the stew almost ready? We're starving here!" 

"It'll be ready when it's ready," Bombur gave him a glare, and swatted his wandering hand with a spoon. "Now get away from my pot." 

Fili and Kili plopped themselves down by the fire, basking in its warmth. "What about you, Elizabeth?" Fili asked. 

"Hmm?" Elizabeth raised her gaze from the fire, and tilted her head at him. 

"What about you? Do you have any family?" Fili inquired, with a smile. "You weren't always with the elves, were you?" 

Elizabeth's good mood vanished as did the smile on her face. The wind blew through the camp, and the fire flickered angrily. "No, I…" For a moment, Elizabeth didn't know what to say because she was genuinely stunned by the question. She shifted her grip on her reigns as she swallowed thickly. "I…did have a family," she said, her voice even. 

"Tell us about them, lass!" Bofur smiled. 

Thorin paused, he sat a short distance away from the group with a whet stone in hand and he paused in gliding the stone across his sword. He felt genuinely curious of Elizabeth's answer, for she had been the most reserved with her past and history. Bilbo eagerly told of the Shire, and his family. Beyond the fact that she apparently had been taking in at some point by the elves, and had been friend with the wizard and hobbit, they knew next to nothing of the woman's past. 

Elizabeth looked at them, all wide eyed. It felt like they had punched a hole in her chest and squeezed her heart tightly. She had to blinked hard, her stomach rolling painfully before she cleared her throat. "I…I don't know where to begin," she stated, quietly. 

"Do you have any siblings?" Kili asked. 

"Yes…three sisters, and one brother," Elizabeth answered, after a long moment. Thorin's slate blue eyes glanced down at her hands which were shaking ever so slightly. Her face was blanched off all color and her blue eyes were no longer filled that brilliant glimmer. Instead, they were dark and shadowed staring out at something in the distance that no one else could quite see. 

_Children were so wanton in the race of men, and so lacking in the race of dwarves,_ Thorin mused to himself. There was a stinging in his stomach akin to bitterness for he had much reason to dislike the race of men, not nearly as much as the elves, but close enough. Ori then asked, "What are they like?" 

"They were my family," Elizabeth gave a light shrug. "I do not know how to give a description that would adequately suffice other than that. My sisters were close. They were so tightly knitted together you'd think they were one person instead of three. They loved singing, and music, and performing. I don't think I ever remember a time where they weren't singing." Her eyes grew misty as she stared down into the fire. "My brother and I used to fight like cats and dogs. Always trying to one up the other in our parents eyes though he preferred the comfort of indoors where I preferred the freedom of outdoors," she stated, with a slight hitch in her laugh. She ran a hand through her hair, and swallowed thickly. "My father…he taught others to hunt. However, to survive. He loved learning new things, especially if he could get his hands dirty while doing it. My mother she was the glue for all our craziness. She was the voice of reason and pragmatism when fights broke out." 

"What happened to them?" It was Dwalin who posed the question, shockingly. His crystal clear gaze steady on Elizabeth's face when she looked at him. 

Elizabeth sat there for a long moment. "I don't know," she whispered out, and she could feel the somberness thicken the air. She drew in a ragged breath as her throat tightened before she rose off her rock, and walked a good ways away from the group. She came to a halt at the edge of the cliff, and looked down into the dark depths below for a long moment. It was the hardest thing, not knowing what had become of her family. She made up lives for them sometimes inside her head, and she only hoped that they were happy wherever they were. 

Closing her eyes, she just breathed. Gathering together herself together, and pushed back the swell of emotions. The dwarves did not mean to pick at the wound that had never healed. Peeling her eyes open, she looked up to the night sky and admired it in silence. How beautiful the stars were, she thought looking up at the sky with a wistful smile upon her face. It was so magical. It was no wonder that people fell in long with them, they were like diamonds sparkling in the night. 

"Do you think so?" 

She would have fallen if he hadn't moved quickly, so quickly she had no sense of him moving at all. But his hands closed firmly over her arms and pulled her to safe ground away from the edge of the cliff. "Steady," he said, and it was more of an order than a suggestion. His stark blue eyes, intense and unblinking, stared directly into hers, making the blood rush whitehot through her veins. She felt the strength of his hands, so strong yet they held her so gently. She watched impatience and curiosity flicker over his gorgeous face. 

"I was—you startled me," she accused, half-heartedly. 

Thorin granted that it was partly his fault. He could have made her aware of his presence, but the way she had been standing there on the edge, gazing out at nothing with a wistful half smile on her face that had struck him in such strange way. "You didn't hear me because you were daydreaming about stars," Thorin stated, his voice sharp in a light reprimand. Elizabeth looked confused for a split second, then realized she must have spoken out loud. "Wished you had stayed at Rivendell?" He asked, raising a lofty brow. He did not know why he taunted her so, but part of him relished the angry flush that blossomed in her cheeks. 

"Do you wish I had stayed a Rivendell?" Elizabeth countered, with her head tilt to the side as she regarded him through her eyelashes. She wasn't sure if she should really be angry or not, because there was a tone in his voice that she couldn't quite make out. 

"I do not have an opinion on that matter," Thorin stated. 

"You must have one, otherwise you wouldn't have said it," Elizabeth said, eyebrow arched. 

Thorin hummed underneath his breath, his blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Why are you nervous?" He questioned, feeling a tremble run through her. 

"I'm not," Elizabeth denied. 

"You weren't." Thorin skimmed his hands down to her wrists, and he felt the jittery bump of her pulse. "Now you are." 

"You startled me, remember?" Elizabeth said, dryly. "And it was a long way down," she tossed a glance over her shoulder, down at the cliff edge. 

"It is at that." He tugged her away another two steps, then released her. He gave her a long searching look, and then tilted his head up to the night skies. "What do you see in those stars? You stare up at them so often," he commented, his brows knotted in thought. 

Tucking a wild strand of hair behind her ear, her face heating up when she notice Thorin's eyes follow the motion with a keen stare and she asked, lightly, "Don't you see the beauty in them?" 

"I have never held any love for the stars," Thorin commented, his blue eyes looking up at the sky with a blatant indifference. 

Shock ran through her, and she gaped at him in disbelief. "How can you not?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes wide. "Haven't you ever gazed up at the sky and just wondered what was out there in the heavens? Or wished up a star? Or been simply amazed at how perfect the stars were like diamonds against an obsidian sky?" The dwarf King turned towards her, and she flushed under his gaze feeling as if she let her tongue get away from her. Clearing her throat, she then asked, "Then what do you love?" 

He was silent for a but a moment. "You speak as if everyone must love something," he commented, quietly. 

"A person would have to be very hard and cold not to love something about the world around them. There is so much wonder and beauty as far as the eye could see," she stated, softly. Out of all the conversation she could have had with the leader of the Company, this was not one she would have imagined, but it was surprisingly. "So hard that they would have to be utterly heartless." 

His eyebrows moved. "I love the mountains. My people are mountain people, the love for the mountain has been in my blood for generations. Our ancestors reside in the stone and we are born within the shelter of the earth. The mountain is a part of us, as we dwarves are a part of it," he answered, his face tilted towards the rising moon. "And will continue to be so for generations to come." 

Elizabeth was silent. She studied him for a long moment, wondering if he looked out at the distance and imagined seeing that great lonely mountain in his mind's eye. She couldn't remember how many hills she had walked up, and pretended that on the other side home would be waiting in the effort to keep going on. "I can see your love for the mountain," she said, softly. "It sounds like a wonderful place." 

"Wonderful is by far not an adequate description of the splendor found underneath the mountain, but none more magnificent than Erebor," Thorin stated, a tone of reverence in his voice as he remembered Erebor. The years may have passed, but the memories were still as clear as if it had been only yesterday. "Long ago in my grandfather Thrór's time our family was driven out of the Far North, and came back with all their wealth and their tools to this Mountain on the map. It had been discovered by my far ancestor, Thráin the Old, but now they mined and they tunneled and they made huger halls and greater workshop-and in addition they found a good deal of gold and a great many jewels, too. They grew immediately rich and famed, and my grandfather was King under the Mountain again, and treated with great reverence by the mortal men, who lived to the South, and were gradually spreading up the Running River as far as the valley overshadowed by the Mountain. They built the merry town of Dale there in those days. Kings used to send for our smiths and reward even the least skilful most richly." 

She couldn't help the smile that formed on her face as the good memories lightened Thorin's face in a way that she had only seen a handful other times during this journey. It was rare to see the shadows gone from his eyes even for the briefest of moments. "Those were good days for us, and the poorest of us had money to spend and to lend, and leisure to make beautiful things. So my grandfather's halls became full of armour and jewels and carvings and cups, and the toy market of Dale was the wonder of the North," Thorin stated, with unmistakable pride in his voice before the shadows crept back in. "An entire empire built over years with blood and sweat, gone within one day to a dragon's greed and now…is nothing more than ruins and tomb for the dead." 

A solemnity laced the air, and Elizabeth felt it sent a pang through her chest. Carefully she reached out, and laid a hand on his shoulder. When he looked towards her, she offered him a small smile. "It can be rebuilt," she stated, softly. "It will take much effort, but I have learned that there is little you dwarves cannot do when you set your mind to something. You will rebuilt it, stronger and better than ever before." 

Thorin bowed his head, slightly. His blue eyes lingered up the hand on his shoulder, and he swore that even through the thick furs and armor he could feel her touch upon his skin. "If our company stands true, we just might," he stated, his gaze flickered his gaze back towards camp. His blue eyes first landed on his nephews, side by side as they always were. Then on Dwalin, and Balin, then one by one he glanced over the rest of them until his gaze fell last upon the hobbit. His lips twisted downward ever so slightly, and it was something Elizabeth did not miss. 

"Continuing to underestimate him will only bring you folly," Elizabeth stated, with a certainty to her voice. She watched Thorin turn his head so their eyes collided. Her heart stuttered in her chest at those smoldering eyes. "You berate him for his kind and gentle nature, but kindness can accomplish much. Sometimes kindness can even do more than any sword and shield can ever hope to accomplish." 

Thorin tilted his head, contemplating her words. "How so?" He asked, the harsh cold lines soften ever so slightly. 

"As the spring sun causes the winter snow to melt away, kindness causes mistrust, and hostility to evaporate," Elizabeth stated, softly. "Just because none of you can hold value on kindness as you do other things doesn't mean that it's something for you to belittle or berate." 

"Dwarves don't just value gold and jewels, Miss Morgan," Thorin stated, his eyebrow arched as he looked down at her with a blank look on his face. 

Elizabeth reeled back as if struck. "That isn't…I didn't not meant to…" Her voice trailed off when she caught the subtle curl of his lips and she glowered up at him, not amused. "You are teasing me." 

Thorin twitched, but gave no other response to that comment. He merely clasped his hands in front of him, and looked back out at the horizon. Taking his silence meant that this conversation was over, Elizabeth gave him a half-hearted smile before walking back towards camp. She laid down upon her bedroll and as soon as she closed her eyes she fell to sleep. Her dreams filled with stars made from diamonds and jewels, and a mountain looming in the distance under a blood red moon. 

* * *

The trail was narrow and dangerous, with a cliff on one side and a sheer drop on the other. A much more dangerous drop than it had been the previous night at camp, Elizabeth realized as they climbed higher and higher. The air was tight, making it very hard to breath and even the dwarves were struggling a bit. 

"This storm is unnatural," Dori complained. The dark clouds growing in number, and force. The wind came through the canyon threatening to blow them back down the mountain, or off the cliff. Elizabeth trailed behind Bilbo who used a walking stick to help steady his way up the trail. 

"Nature is a violent thing. It can be ruthless, or nurturing, and it only tolerates the rest of us," Balin wrapped his arms around himself. "You have to take great care in how you deal with it, or you'll never understand it." 

"I care not for understanding it," Bofur stated, loudly from the back of the group. "I'll settle for get out of it!" 

The storm came swiftly, and with only a thunderclap as warning before rain began to pour down from the sky. Lightning streaked through the air, and Elizabeth pulled her hood up over her head. She had to narrow her eyes against the icy rain that hit her face like pin needles, and she heard Thorin shout, "Hold on!" 

Everyone leaned towards the rocky wall, in an attempt to shelter themselves from the deluge. As Bilbo walked, the stone beneath his feet gave out and he felt his heart leapt in his throat. He didn't have time to scream, when he felt himself toppling over the side of the chasm. A meaty hand grabbed him by his pack, and hauled him back over. The hobbit sputtered, and shook before he looked up at Dwalin. "Thank you," he managed, relief in his voice. 

Thorin stared at the path, with a deep frown upon his face. "We must find shelter!" He shouted, loudly. The path was unstable at best, and the storm was only making it worst. It was a death trap waiting to happen. 

Dwalin open his mouth to shout something back when his blue yes flickered upward. 

"Watch out!" Dwalin shouted, and pointed upward. All of them looked up to see a massive boulder hurtle through the air, it struck the mountainside above them. Rocks fell down upon them, and Elizabeth flattened herself against the rock wall. A hand on Bilbo's chest in a silent urge for the hobbit to do the same. 

"This is no thunderstorm; it's a thunder battle! Look!" Balin screamed, pointing upward. A stone giant reared up from a nearby mountain, and it was like nothing Elizabeth had ever seen. It tore a massive boulder from the top of the mountain. 

"I told you it was unnatural!" Dori shouted. 

"Now is not the time!" Ori snapped, clutching at his shawl. 

"Well bless me, the legends are true. Giants; Stone Giants!" Bofur let out a bit of hysterical laughter. 

"Take cover!" Thorin urged everyone. "You'll fall!" 

"What's happening?" Kili blinked against the rain. The first Stone Giant threw the boulder far in the air, and it's great shadow fell over them as a second Stone Giant appeared from behind the Company. The boulder struck the second giant in the head. The dwarves yelled at each other to brace and hold on, and the rocks beneath their feet begin to give way from all the vibrations and from the impact of the falling rocks. 

Bilbo grasped Elizabeth's side, as the ground between some of the Company members splits. Part of the group is on one side, and part on the other. "Kili! Grab my hand! Ki…" Fili desperately grasped at his brother, but the gap is to wide. Kili looked stricken, and Elizabeth uses her free hand to grab him by his hood. Across the gap, her eyes were pulled towards Thorin's and his face was a visage of anger to hide the fear she knew was there. And Thorin being afraid…it only made her panic even worse. 

It all happened way to fast, and they were like ants helplessly trying not to get stomped on as the two stone giants fight with their fists. Everyone holds tight as they are flung around, and a third stone giant appears. The first grouped watched as a boulder hits one of the stone giants, and it toppled over. Elizabeth had been close to death in several different ways, but being crush had never been one of them. Until now. The Stone Giant crashed into the rocky cliff above them, leaving them in a tight space just inches from being crushed. 

Everyone was jostled about, and it was hard to hold on when the Stone Giant slid away. Cries of panic and grief came from the other group. 

"No! No! Kili!" Thorin's shouts were the loudest. 

Elizabeth felt her stomach churn with dizziness, and she almost collapsed to her knees when everything came to a halt. The other two giants battle had moved away from them, but when she only found Kili at her side, her stomach plummeted into her stomach. "Bilbo?" She looked down the group, and stood up. Her eyes were wide, and all the blood drained out of her face as she looked over the edge of the cliff. 

"We're all right! We're alive!" Balin assured them, as the other group came racing around the corner of the path. 

Bofur frowned, his brown eyes narrowed in concern. "Where's Bilbo? Where's the Hobbit?" He looked to the others. 

"Bilbo!" Elizabeth screamed, her voice filled with pure panic. There hanging onto the edge of the cliff with just his fingertips. She dove onto the ground, and tried to grab his arm. But Bilbo slipped, and falls another few feet before he caught another handhold. Elizabeth watched the panic etched onto his features, and she locked her jaw tightly. They wouldn't be able to reach him, not by leaning down. Using the edge of the cliff, Elizabeth carefully swung down onto the cliff next to Bilbo. 

"Lassie!" Oin called out. 

"She's out of her mind!" Nori stated. 

"Elizabeth!" Thorin roared, his eyes widen. 

Her fingertips ached, the Cliffside made all more torturous by the rain sliding down it's side. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she twisted her head towards Bilbo. He wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. Drawing in a swift breath, she grasped him by the back of his jacket and shoved him up with all the strength that she had in her. Her muscles groaned, and burned, but it had been enough. Dwalin had managed to reach down and haul Bilbo up to safety. 

"Elizabeth," Thorin reached down, his arm stretched as far as it could go. She looked up at him, and with a shaky hand reached upward when the rocks beneath her feet crumbled right out from underneath her. She remembered a shout, a flash of panic across Thorin's face before she went plummeting into the darkness below. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER!  
> This more of the "MADE OF STONE OST", and I want to take a moment to give WriteWithFeeling much thanks and props for taking all the songs on the list so far and complying them into a soundtrack that can be found on Youtube. Go check it out! WriteWithFeeling is amazing, thank you again. Thanks to all those who have recommended songs, and have broaden my musical horizon. You all have been such a big help.  
> Rrs are appreciated.


	18. Crawling in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter inspired by the songs:  
> "Crawling in the Dark" by Hoobastank  
> "Under" by Alex Hepburn  
> "Falling in the Black" by Skillet  
> "Black and White" by Earlyrise
> 
> THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT! GLAD YOU ALL LIKE THE FIC! :D I didn't have a song that really inspired this fic, but if you have one you'd like to recommend, let me know. :D  
> Thank you alien94, MarvelMixedWithHobbits, GrammarGrrrl, Catann, moon_goddess_118, sweetsgal, Dusk_Lilly, earedien, kalin128, annievogel90, greasergirlalex, Starkid_Impala015, Just4Me, mehg11, EbonyLeijon, edelweissmaia, DanteOphydian, RegalMagnus, fairykia, Elashor_Seger, Dances_With_Vulcans, candy_hearts, i11iad, AgentLilyAEvans, and hwinde as well as 52 guests who gave my story kudos!  
> Thank you, Avendia, RosetheBookWurm, aryannaoakenshield, Dusk_Lily, Starkid_Impala015, AgentLilyAEvans, candy_hearts, i11iad, Catann, mdowney3 for the bookmarks!  
> Thank you Catann for the comments.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 

"Crawling Through the Dark" 

[](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/ezgif-684636129_zpsohz8lm8p.gif.html)

* * *

There was hush that hung over the cavern. 

Not a word spoken, not a phrase uttered. Not a one of them dared to break the somber silence, and there were no words that could change what had happened. It was cold, made even colder since the rain had chilled them to the bone, but a fire was a risk they could not take. Thorin stared muted, his blue eyes lowered to the ground as everyone shuffled about to get comfortable. The hobbit sat there pale and with a shaken look on his face, his knees drawn up to his chest. Thorin paused for a moment when he passed him, his mouth opened to offer some words. His lips pressed together when he knew that words were inadequate to give the grieving hobbit. No apologies or sympathies that could truly ease what the hobbit was going through. So Thorin closed his mouth, and turned away. Elizabeth had been a sister to Baggins, and Thorin hadn't fully appreciated that fact until now. 

But what had she been to him? The thought came unbidden to him, and the searing pain inside of his chest increased tenfold and nearly stole his breath. It was as if a chasm inside of him had splintered open only to be filled with guilt, pain and a sense of helplessness that he could not ignore. His shoulder were hunched over, and a haunted gleam in his eyes that he could not hide no matter how he tried. There was blood rushing through his ears deafening all else to him, a feeling ripped through his gut like deep claws that tore into him without mercy leaving nothing, but pain in their wake. The image of her face was burned into his eyes, and would not be one he would ever forget. The flicker of panic and haunting realization before she fell back into the blackness. 

Thorin pressed his hand against the cold stone, but there was no comfort in it now. It felt like ice underneath his palm, and there was a wrongness that trembled through him. There was a burning knot in the back of his throat and it felt like his lungs were filled with hot embers, that burned hotter with each gravelly breath he took. He clenched his eyes closed, and tunneled his fingers through his hair. 

_"I cannot guarantee their safety," Thorin stated, gravely._

_"Understood," the wizard gave a sharp nod._

_"Nor will I be responsible for his fate," Thorin said, his expression was so hard that it looked like it was carved out of marble instead of flesh._

_"Just his fate?" Gandalf said, faintly surprised._

_Thorin paused, then glared at the wizard. "Nor will I be responsible for the girl's," Thorin added, darkly with a sneer._

The memory pierced through him with all the force a dwarven axe to the gut, and he let out a breath that shuddered through his entire body. His jaw clenched tightly until the dull ache turned into a cold, numbing sensation that spread across the planes of his face. His fingers curled until his hands were in tight fists, and it took every ounce of will in him not to slam them against the cavern wall. 

_"I would ask that you take care of her as if she were one of your own," Elrond stated his request, his hands clasped tightly behind his back._

_Thorin startled for a second. The elven lord was completely serious in this request, and Thorin as much as he hated, he acknowledged the concern in those old, wise eyes. "Elizabeth will not come to harm…if it is in my power to stop it," Thorin promised, though he knew that there was a chance that he could not keep it._

"Thorin." 

Thorin raised his head, and he saw Dwalin look at him. He couldn't look his old friend in the eye, not wanting to see what he knew would be written on Dwalin's face. "Not now, Dwalin," he said, his voice raw with emotions. "Not now." 

* * *

_Hazy visions misted all around her with no true shape or definition. She was floating in the darkness, it was not a comfortable sleep. Elizabeth was still and unmoving, alone and cold lying on the ground. She thought she was along until she heard the faint rustle of movement. Her jaw moved up and down for it took her several moments to muster up the energy to speak. "Who…who is there?" She called out, weakly._

_"I am known by many names. Artanis…Nerwen…Alátariel," the voice became less like faint whispers and into a familiar, solid voice as Elizabeth managed to drag up her head up off of the ground and stared, mouth agape. "But you only know me by one. Galadriel," the golden haired elf stated, as grave as she was beautiful. Galadriel was draped in white, and had an ethereal glow to her like starlight. It was not surprising for it was said that Galadriel had captured the light from the Two Tree within her, and was a light in times of darkness._

_"Are you real?" Elizabeth croaked out slowly. "Or…is this all in my head?"_

_"Both," Lady Galadriel stated, with a mysterious smile._

_Elizabeth felt the blood dripping down her forehead grow cold, and she stared, her expression exhausted and oh so tired, up at Galadriel. So many questioned where upon her tongue, so many things that she wished to ask the Lady. "Why…am I here?" Elizabeth slurred, drunkenly as her head bobbed with effort to keep her eyes._

_"You fell," Galadriel answered, concerned. "Don't you remember?" If angels were real, Galadriel is what they would look like. A beacon of shining light and hope in all the dark._

_"Yeah…" Elizabeth remembered that. It was kind of hard to forget plummeting hundreds of feet down into the jagged dark depths of the Misty Mountains though how she had survived was a mysterious onto itself. She had been certain that when she slipped, and seen the look of pure horror on Thorin's face that she was about to meet her Maker. Instead, it was Lady Galadriel. "That's…that's not…what I meant," she breathed out, resting her throbbing forehead against the rough cavern floor. The coolness of it alleviated some of the pain._

_"I know what you ask," Lady Galadriel looked down at her a look of sympathy and regret. "But it not a question that is mine to answer. What you fate is…is for you alone to come to know, not anyone else's."_

_Elizabeth laid there, immobile save for the rise and fall of her back as she pressed her face down into the ground with a miserable moan. Swallowing thickly trying to ignore the rise of emotions in her chest, she managed to raise her head once more at looked up at Galadriel. A single tear streaked down her cheek, and she looked as lost as she felt. "Are you…you going to be my light?" She asked, and as soon as she asked Lady Galadriel began to fade away._

_"Dear child," Lady Galadriel's voice began to fade away. The light began to dim, and the darkness started to creep in. "I cannot be your light. You have your light…you always have."_

A harsh gasp of air ripped through her throat, and her eyes snapped open. There was nothing, but darkness around her. She was laid upon a stone slab that was inclined slightly out of flood water that rushed by. Elizabeth felt her entire body tremble from head to toe, as her stomach rolled with nausea. Her head throbbed and pulsed with pain, she could scarcely remember such a time she was in so much pain. It felt like something had tried to split her skull open, and then gut her. She laid there for several seconds before she managed to roll over onto her stomach, and she braced her palms against the stone floor. Elizabeth let her forehead pressed against the grimy stone, the coldness soothing her pain and she a light groan. 

What had happened? _The earth trembled, flashes of stones, flashes of giants, Bilbo hanging on, Thorin's face and then falling_ …it all came back to her in horrifying detail. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, and there was a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. She had fallen, and she knew that she was something out there was looking after her because it was a miracle that she had survived. Mud, grim and blood covered her skin and armor. Her entire body felt bruised and swollen, it seemed all of the elves hard work to get her healed from the trolls had been in vain. 

Her stomach rolled, and she choked up vomit. The putrid substance burning her throat, and a shudder ran down her spine. She couldn't think, she could barely breath and all she could wanted was to get out of here. She had heard horror stories of what lingered within the crevices of the Misty Mountains, and her heart told her that she needed to find the dwarves. She could find them, if she got up. Locking her jaw in place, she gathered every ounce of willpower she had and she began to push herself up off of the ground. Her body groaned with aching throbs, but somehow she had managed to pull herself to her feet. Elizabeth went over all the pains in her mind, while her hands took inventor of her supplies and weapons. Everything seemed to be intact, but she was certain she had a few broken ribs on her right side. 

There parts of her swollen and turning black, and tomorrow she would undoubtedly stiff and doubly painfully. Each breath burned and she swayed on her feet for several moments before she managed one step forward in the ankle deep water. Her hands were stretched out in front of her, in an effort to find her way and her was thundering in her chest the whole time. _"…there is nothing more than the world cares for than the rays that bring the warmth of the sun. To be bathed in light, and flourished underneath it. However, the greater the light…the greater chance there is for darkness…As long as you carry Dawnbreaker, it's light will help you see the path even in the darkest of places."_

A gasp tore from her lips, and her hand went to the sword strapped her to the back. For several seconds she fumbled with it before she managed to grasp it and pull it out. She held it out in front of her, only to have her heart sink down to the pit of her stomach. No light came. No shine, nothing to penetrate the darkness around her. She didn't understand. Glorifindel said it would be a light in the darkness, but there was not light to be found. The jewel's brilliance was dull and empty. A knot of frustration built back in her throat in the form of a scream, and she barely managed to hold it back. Leaning against the stonewall, she let her eyes slipped closed as all the fight seemed to drain out of her and slowly the world faded out of focus. 

* * *

Bilbo was silent. 

There was a heaviness that hung around him that stole his voice and clouded his thoughts. Each breath was hindered by the swelling pain in his chest and a knot clogged the back of his throat. He wanted to break down and weep. He wanted to shout and scream until he couldn't hear the thunder outside anymore that seemed to taunt him, maddeningly so. Instead he sank down with his back against the cavern wall, his head bowed downward and his knees drawn up to his chest tightly. He sat that way for what felt like forever, and nothing could draw him from drowning in the throes of guilt and despair. 

It should have been him. 

The thought crashed into him, and he let out a sobbing breath. He bit his lip to silence himself for all the dwarves were now sleeping, and it was a restless kind of sleep. There had been a visible shift in the company, all of them stricken by Elizabeth's…he couldn't even think it. He clenched his eyes closed as tight as he could, and tried to find someway to ease the pain knotted in his heart. None came, only the unfaltering guilt he felt in that moment. How many times had Elizabeth asked him to go on an adventure? How many times had he turned her down? 

And the one time he dared ventured out the door, Elizabeth ended up sacrificing herself for him. His stomached twisted, he had told her he wasn't meant to be an adventurer. He was too soft, too…too weak. He rose quickly off the cave floor, his bag still packed for he hadn't even unpacked it. His heart was pounding in his ears, a vicious constant roar as he crept towards the entrance. He almost got to the entrance when Bofur jumped up from where he sat on watch. 

"Where do you think you're going?" Bofur asked, concerned. 

Bilbo paused. "Back to Rivendell," he replied, after a moment with his eyes fixated on the ground. 

"No, no, you can't turn back now," Bofur told him, speaking quietly as to not wake the others. He took another step forward to him, and stared at Bilbo with serious dark eyes. "You are part of the Company." 

"I'm not though, am I?" Bilbo shook his head. "I was a fool of a Took. I don't know what I was thinking. I should never run out my door, not when…" The hobbit looked upwards as if searching for sign of strength before he swallowed thickly. "She asked me to come with her. A number of times, but I always declined. I told Elizabeth that I wasn't made for adventures or running off, like she was. She never gave up hope though…she always asked, and the one time I…" Bilbo ran his hands down his face. "Elizabeth had faith in me, and look where it got her." 

"That wasn't yer fault, Bilbo," Bofur told the hobbit, sadly. "You can't blame yourself for that." 

"How can I not? Wasn't it my fault?" Bilbo's chest rose and fell heavily with each sharp breath. He felt a clammy sweat broke out along his skin, and he felt very shaky. "She was my friend, and she died to save me. If I…I had just stayed home, or if I had accepted Elrond's offer to stay in Rivendell…then she would never had to save me." 

"Perhaps you're right," Bofur stated, not unkindly. "Perhaps no one would have been hanging off that ledge, or perhaps…it would have been someone else hanging there instead. I daresay that Elizabeth would have been the first one down there no matter who was clinging to that cliffside. It was the type of person she was, anyone could see that." 

_She was…as in past tense. As in no longer_ , Bilbo flinched at the reminder. He opened his mouth, but found he did not know what to say. A hand fell upon his shoulder, and Bilbo jumped, looking to his right. Kili offered him a small smile, tightening his grip gently on the hobbit's shoulders. "We've got you, Mr. Boggins," he stated, quietly. 

Fili nodded, and both of them looked more serious than Biblo could ever recall seeing them. Bilbo blinked, and he found the entire company was wide awake now. Some stood, others sat up in their cots, but all were looking at him with understanding in their gazes. His eyes flickered over all their face, and landed lastly on Thorin Oakenshield. 

The leader was silent, and stood like an imposing shadow. His expression gave away nothing, but in his eyes mirrored the stricken grief the hobbit had in his. A kinship of tragedy that now bound them together, and in that moment, Bilbo truly felt a part of the Company. He felt his chest expand greatly, filled up with too much grief that it could not be contain. He could feel a sob tremble up in his throat, but before he could even break down he saw a faint blue glow. 

"What is that?" Oin pointed at Biblo's waist. 

Bilbo glanced downward. He pulled his sword partway out of its sheath and sees that it is glowing bright blue. Terror ripped through him as he recalled Gandalf's warning. "Oh, no," he said, and he looked down in horror as cracks form in the sand on the floor of the cave. Before anyone could shout a warning, the ground falls right out from underneath them. The world spun, and twisted as the entire Company fell down a chute. 

The tunnel seemed to go onward, and onward until one by one the dwarves and hobbit land in a giant wooden cage. Bilbo groaned from underneath at least two or three of the dwarves, and he struggled to gather his bearings. He pulled his head free from Nori's very smelly armpit and saw a hoard of goblins rush the Company. No one had time to begin to put up a fight as the goblins immediately strip them of their weapons, and drag the dwarves down a path. Everyone yelled, and fought. Bilbo in the midst of the chaos had rolled out of the way, unseen by the goblins. Nori looked over his shoulder, and spotted the hobbit. He kept his silence, not wanting to draw attention to the tiny burglar. Bilbo drew his sword, and swallowed thickly. He mustered up in all his courage, and crept forward to follow the goblins. 

If he caught them unawares then he could give the dwarves the advantage, but that thought immediately flew out of his mind when a goblin jumped in the path before him seemingly out of nowhere. Bilbo gasped, reeling back as the creature rushed him with a sword and the two fight. Bilbo was barely keeping himself from being skewed on the end of the goblin's sword, when the goblin lunged forward once more. Bilbo stumbled back, but there was no ground underneath his feet. With a cry of panic Bilbo toppled over the edge into darkness, and the goblin came falling along with him. 

* * *

Thorin growled, and snarled at the vile creatures. The goblins poked and prodded them with their poorly crafted weaponry, forcing them through the vast network of tunnels and wooden bridges. _This could not be their end_ , Thorin thought as anger flooded through him. _Not like this. Not now._ A dark thought crossed his mind, a flicker of doubt where he wondered if this was his punishment. A punishment for all the sins that he could not undo, and a punishment for not protecting those he should have better. For not grabbing her before she had fallen, Thorin was jolted out of his thoughts when a goblin shoved him forward into a throne room. 

A horrid song filled the air, and the goblins stomped their feet to the tune. 

_Swish, smack! Whip, crack!_

_Smash, grab! Pinch, nab!_

_You go, my lad!_

_Ho, ho! My lad!_

_The black crack! The back crack!_

_The black crack! The back crack!_

_Down, down to Goblin-town!_

_Down, down to Goblin-town!_

_Down, down to Goblin-town!_

_You, my lad!_

_Ho, ho! My lad!_

_Goblins quaff, and Goblins beat,_

_Goblins laugh, and Goblins bleat,_

_Batter, jabber, whip and hammer, hooo!_

_Yo go, my lad!_

_Ho, ho my lad!_

_The black crack! The back crack!_

_The black crack! The back crack!_

_Down, down to Goblin town!_

_Down, down to Goblin town!_

_Down, down to Goblin town!_

As they were shoved further into the room, Thorin laid eyes upon the creature responsible for the disgusting tune. It was a creature he had never seen the likes of before, and he hoped that he would never see again. It was a Great Goblin sitting on a throne, with a mace topped with a skull. He was larger than any other goblin, much larger but he was just as ugly, with warts all over his swinging chin. 

"Catchy, isn't it?" The Great Goblin commented. "It's one of my own compositions," he said, with a hint of malice and glee in his bloodstained smile. 

"That's not a song," Balin said, disgusted. "That's an abomination!" 

The goblins hissed, and growled from all around them. Thorin raked an eye over the sheer number of them, and the odds were far from in their favor. _But when had the odds ever been on their side?_ He thought bitingly. They may not make it out of this cavern alive, but they would not go silently. Nor without a fight. 

"Abomination, mutation, deviations is all that you will find down here!" The Great Goblin cackled at their misfortune as the dwarves' weapons were tossed into a pile together, and the Great Goblin leaned forward off his throne. Thorin instinctively tensed as the ground trembled beneath his feet, and he held a wary gaze on the Great Goblin. "Now…who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom? Spies? Thieves? Assassins?" The Great Goblin eyed them with a devious grin upon his face. 

"Dwarves, Your Malevolence," one goblin answered, bowing before the Great Goblin. "We found them on the front porch." 

"Were they?" The Great Goblin looked intrigued, which did not bode well for the dwarves. "Well, don't just stand there; search them! Every crack, every crevice." 

The dwarves fought as the goblins searched them, and threw away whatever they found. One took Oin's hearing trumpet, and crushed it underneath its foot. Another took the sack off of Nori's back, and dumped it out onto the ground. Candlesticks, spoons, and all manners of things the Master Thief had nicked out of Rivendell clattered to ground. Nori looked slightly sheepish when Dori gave him a deadpanned look. 

"Just a couple of keepsakes," Nori tried to justify himself. 

Dori didn't looked one bit convinced. 

One of the goblins picked up one of the candlestick. "It is my belief, your malevolence, they are in league with elves," the goblin handed the item over to the Great Goblin. 

The Great Goblin inspected it. "Indeed, it is of elvish craft. Rivendell, perhaps?" He guessed, shooting the dwarves a look out of the corner of his eye. "Second age craft. Throw it away, it is worthless," he tossed it off the side, with little regard to the goblin it struck. "What are dwarves doing in these parts?" 

Thorin looked resigned, and began to step forward when Oin grasped him by the shoulder. The healer shot him a look before he turned to face the Great Goblin. "You're going to have to speak up!" Oin taunted the Great Goblin, giving him a droll look. "Your boys flattened my trumpet!" 

"I'll flatten more than your trumpet," the Great Goblin lumbered forward threateningly, but Bofur jumped in front of Oin. 

"If you want information, I'm the one you needed to be speaking to," Bofur said, quickly. 

The Great Goblin paused, and the toymaker came up with something swiftly. "We were on the road, you see. Well, it's more of a path than a road. Actually, it's not even that come to think of it. It's more of a track," the dwarf gave a little wave with his hand. "Anyways, the point is we were on this road like a path like a track and then we weren't. Which is a problem because we were supposed to be in Dunelain…two days ago I believe. We were…" 

"Visiting distant relations!" Dori added in helpful. 

"Indeed! Sovereign bred on my mother's side…" Bofur began, but the Great Goblin had long lost his patience for the tale. 

"Shut up!" The Great Goblin roared. All the goblins cowed back from the echoing shout, and the dwarves stood stock still. Bofur bowed his head ever so slightly as the Great Golbin pointed a gnarled finger at him. "If they will not talk, we will make them squawk! Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker! Start with the youngest." 

Ori made a noise, but before the goblins could get him, Thorin stepped forward. "Wait," he demanded, his voice as hard as rock. 

A look of surprise flickered across the Great Goblin's face, and he let out a low chuckle. "Well, well, well, look who it is. Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror; King under the Mountain," the Great Goblin began to bow exaggeratedly to Thorin then halted. "Oh, but I'm forgetting, you don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you nobody, really." 

Thorin gave him a look of pure loathing. His jaw was clenched, and his knuckles white fists were at his sides. He wished for nothing more than to lob off the creatures head, but his sword was too far away to make an attempt for it. The Great Goblin just grinned at the reaction. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours. A Pale Orc astride a White Warg," he stated, as if revealing some sort of dark secret with no small amount of glee. 

Thorin's blood curdled in his veins. Disbelief and shock rippled across his features as he stared up at the Great Goblin. A vice grip tightened around his heart, one of momentary panic before he overcame it with a sharp shake of his head. "Azog the Defiler was destroyed. He was slain in battle long ago," Thorin stated, vehemently. 

The Great Goblin merely smiled, and what a terrible thing that smile was. "So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" He gave a laugh then turned to a tiny goblin sitting in a basket and holding a slate. "Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize." 

Thorin had a foreboding sensation in the pit of his stomach. One that did not bode well for him or his Company, at all. 

* * *

_She was sitting in her cell._

_Back in that dark place that she hoped she would never visit again yet here she was, stuck in some kind of nightmare that she construed. Her eyes stared around her, her finger clutched the cot tightly before she let her feet slid down to the floor and stood up. Her heart was beating inside of her chest, a slow steady rhythm. She approached the bars, drawing closer by the soft muttering. There was a silhouette from the next cell, and instinctively she knew who it was._

_"Charlie?" She whispered, hoarsely._

_Charlie paid her no heed, just rocking back and forth. He clutched something close to his chest, and muttered three words over and over again. She couldn't quite make them out, so she moved closer. There was a feeling inside of her chest, a strange sense of déjà vu as she wrapped her hands around the bars and leaned in. Charlie shifted nervously, his head bent downward and he twisted something about in his fingers._

_It was Thorin's key!_

_It was the key that Gandalf had given to Thorin, Elizabeth reeled back in shock and Charlie's mutters began to get louder and louder until Elizabeth clearly made them out._

_"Dis…Frenin_ …Thorin…" 

Elizabeth jolted back into reality, and she shoved off the wall she had passed out against. She stumbled forward, almost drunkenly and she struggled to keep herself upright. Her throat bobbed as a rush of bile touched the back of her tongue, and she clenched her jaw. 

Determination roared to life like a wood given to dying embers, and she held onto to it as tightly as she could. She put one foot in front of the other, her sword held out in front of her warily and she struggled down the uneven path. It was a small space, almost claustrophobic in its tightness and she licked her dry lips. 

She kept going forward, and she had to find the others. The Company. Bilbo. Thorin. She had to find them, in her heart she knew she had to find them. She breathed in through her cracked lips, and her heart was like a hummingbird's wing beneath her ribcage. It was beating so fast, and so loudly she swore she heard it echoing off the surrounding walls. Her feet were submerged in the cold water, and a shiver ran through her as her teeth chattered together. "I can do this…I can do this," she whispered out. 

There was a rumble from above her, and she could hear the rock fissure and crack, still unstable from the stone giant battle. She had to find a way out of her soon, she realized with her heart jolting in her chest. Or she would be crushed underneath the mountain. As dust fell down stinging her eyes, she heard something shuffle behind her. 

Hands grasped her, cold and clammy with nails as sharp as claws. It was undoubtedly a goblin, and Elizabeth let out a startled scream. She fought to get the goblin off of her back, swinging around to slam the creature into the nearby wall. The creature did not let go, and in a vicious struggle they ended up on the ground, with Dawnbreaker out of Elizabeth's reach. The goblin snapped its mouth near her face, the stench of blood and death on it's breath. Inside Elizabeth shuddered with disgust, and she held the goblin back with her forearms. Pulling her legs close to her chest, she kicked out and caught the goblin right in the gut. 

The goblin stumbled backwards, and Elizabeth grabbed Dawnbreaker then rolled on her stomach to crawl up the slick hill as fast as she could in order to escape. She couldn't fight in the darkness, she was too vulnerable as it was with her injuries that hindered her every movement. She heard the goblin hiss and growl, only a heart behind her when there was a loud shift from above. Like a punch to the gut, Elizabeth realized the ceiling was about to collapse. Fear burnt white hot through out her entire being, and Elizabeth knew she only had seconds to get out of the way. 

The cavern above splintered and Elizabeth threw herself forward with all her might just in time to rolled out of the way just in time. The earth trembled as the rocks crashed into the ground with all the force of an explosion, and the goblin was smashed right beneath them. Elizabeth threw her arms over her head, to protect herself from the pebbles and rocks that fell upon her. They pelted her, but none lethal in their force. Her heart hammering in the base of her neck, she felt sweat dripping off of her brow and her body trembled. One heart beat later, she collapsed onto the ground out cold. 

* * *

_"Some are quick to take it. Other must be coaxed. Those who chose to take it gain and lose the most," a voice drew him out of his restless sleep once more, and Bilbo tried to press the pillow tighter against her ear._

_"Go away," the hobbit demanded._

_"Answer the riddle, and I just might."_

_"Risk! It's risk! Now go away!"_

_"I said I might, not that I would. Now, why is a raven like a writing desk?" The voice asked, calmly. Hands pried the pillow free from his clutches and the hobbit resisted the urge to kick the offender._

_Bilbo let out a groan, and he peeled open his blood shot eyes to stare up at a way too happy, too perky for this time in the morning Elizabeth. She had a wide smile on her face, and an eyebrow arched in a challenge. The hobbit glared at her, and sighed, "Elizabeth, I'm not in the mood for riddles."_

_"No, I can see that," she commented, her voice even. Her bright expression turned into something more serious and her eyes had an indecipherable look in them. "You'd rather just hide away in your bed, in your home for the rest of your life, wouldn't you?"_

_"Elizabeth," Bilbo rubbed his eyes._

_"You're grieving. I understand that," Elizabeth told him, simply. "But staying in here…it isn't going to make it better. It's just going to make it worse." She gave a him a sad smile, and sighed as she settled in the chair next to his bed. "I'm going to tell you something. It might not mean anything to you right now. You're hurting too much to understand it, but I think in time you might come to see it's meaning."_

_Bilbo watched her place one hand against her temple while the other idly ran across the armrest as she leaned back in the chair. "There are going to be moments when you don't feel like you have the strength, when you forget that you are more than what is hurting you inside," Elizabeth told him, a somber air about her. "You just have to remember every life is a mix of good things, and bad things. Now, the good things can't always stop the pain from the bad things. However, the bad things don't always ruin the good things and make them less important."_

_The hobbit said nothing. His heart felt as if someone had a vice grip on it, and he looked down at his hands no longer able to stare at her. He looked around Bag End, and there was a strange sense of dissociation that settled in. What was he doing in Bag End? They had left the Shire, and…it suddenly occurred to him that this was a dream, an illusion about a memory. He didn't know why the sudden realization hit him, he only knew that it did and his sorrow increased tenfold. "I'm sorry," Bilbo said, suddenly._

_Elizabeth frowned at him. "What for?"_

_"You're dead…and it's my fault."_

Bilbo groaned, his eyes fluttered open. There was ache in his back and it took him a moment to recall what had happened. He stared at the darkness around him, and he sat up ever so slightly wrinkling his nose at the musty smell of the overgrown clump over mushrooms that sat in front of him. His hazel eyes landed on the goblin who had attacked him, it was still and it's breathing shallow. _Nearly dead_ , he thought with a twinge of relief and hint of satisfaction. That satisfaction instantly dried up when he spotted something moving through the shadows. 

It was a slight, slim being. No taller than a hobbit, and with its visage he mistook it for a goblin. Although it looked rather strange for a goblin, emaciated and with large blue eyes. It approached the goblin with a glee on its face. "Yes. Yes. Yes! Yes! Gollum. Gollum." 

Thankfully the mushrooms were large enough to obscure Bilbo from the creature's vision, and he watched while holding his breath. The strange creature circled around the goblin before he began to pull the goblin away by its feet. The goblin jerked awake, and flailed around desperately. With a scream of rage, the creature grabbed a large rock and bludgeoned the goblin over the head until the goblin fell still. 

Bilbo could only stare on in horror as the creature began to drag the Goblin away, and the hobbit blinked when he saw a flash of gold fall out of the creature's loincloth. It fell silently onto the cavern floor, almost as if it didn't want to be heard. "Nasty goblinses. Better than old bones, Precious; better than nothing," the creature muttered to itself. It was clear that this creature had been driven mad, by loneliness and isolation was Bilbo's guess. 

When the creature had dragged the goblin out of sight, Bilbo emerged from his hiding spot and the first thing he did was retrieve his weapon. The sword still glowed a haunting blue, and as he made to follow the creature, he noticed the golden band on the ground. He stared down at it for what seemed eternity, something about the simple golden band drew him in like a moth to a flame and he was certain that he had never seen something so beautiful. He picked it up, an unconscious movement and studied it thoughtfully. 

"Too many boneses, Precious! Nothing of flesh!" He heard the creature up ahead, and Bilbo stowed the ring in his pocket before he stared along the path quietly. "Shut up! Get its skin off. Start with its head." 

Bilbo felt trepidation trickle down his spine, and he shifted forward on his feet holding his sword out warily in front of him. As he rounded a corner, Bilbo saw the creature silhouetted on top of a rock in the middle of a small lake. It was singing, " _The cold hard lands, they bites our hands, they gnaws our feet. The rocks and stones, they're like old bones, all bare of meat. Cold as death, they have no breath, it's good to eat!_ " 

The creature smashed the goblin in the head again with a rock, over and over until his head jerked upward. Bilbo quickly hid behind a rock, realizing that it was the glow from his sword that attracted the creature's attention. He held his breath tightly in his lungs, and he felt fear's icy fingers trail down his spine as the light from his sword started to flicker. 

Then suddenly it died. The goblin was dead. 

Licking his parched lips, Bilbo peeked out from behind the rock, and shock ran through him when he does not see the creature any longer. His fingers clasped around the hilt of his sword, and he slowly walked around the rock. Apprehension crawled across his skin like a horde of ants, and that's when a peddle fell down from above him. He froze, and then slowly craned his head backwards until he stared upward. Shock reeled through as he saw the creature above him, but before the hobbit could react the creature dropped to the ground right in front of him. 

"Bless us and splash us, Precious! That's a meaty mouthful," the creature approached Bilbo with a hungry look in his eyes and Bilbo quickly placed the point of his sword on the creature's throat. The creature retreated back fearfully. "Aaahh. Gollum. Gollum. Ack." 

"Back. Stay back," Bilbo forced the tremble out of his voice, and gritted his teeth together as he kept his sword level at the creature. "I'm warning you, don't come any closer." 

The creature gave him a dirty look. "It's got an elfish blade, but it's not an Elfs. Not an Elfs, no. What is it, Precious? What is it?" The creature asked itself. 

"My name is Bilbo Baggins," the hobbit stated, then a split second later shook his head. He did not know why he had even bothered introducing himself. No, down here was no place for a hobbit's manner. 

"Bagginses? What is a Bagginses, Precious?" The creature gave Bilbo a curious look. 

"I'm a Hobbit from the Shire." 

"Oh! We like Goblinses, batses, and fishes, but we hasn't tried Hobbitses before. Is it soft? Is it _juicy_?" That last question did not seem to bode well for the creature started to approach again. 

Bilbo gave a wildly wave of his sword. "Now, now, K-keep your distance! I'll use this if I have to!" Bilbo threatened, and the creature snarled. The hobbit took a step back, and his throat bobbed. "I don't want any trouble, do you understand? Just show me the way to get out of here, and I'll be on my way." 

"Why? Is it lost?" The creature asked. 

Bilbo hesitated for a moment, because he didn't want the creature to know that he was lost. It was clearly not a friend, and down here Bilbo was out of his depth. "Yes, yes, and I want to get unlost as soon as possible," the hobbit nodded, deciding perhaps he could somehow persuade the creature to help out. 

The creature's expression lightened, an almost innocent look entered it's eyes. "Ooh! We knows! We knows safe paths for Hobbitses. Safe paths in the dark." Then suddenly the creatures features twist into a harshness, and a dark scowl was fixated upon the hobbit. "Shut up." 

"I didn't say anything," Bilbo said, slowly. 

"Wasn't talking to you," the creature snapped, then a split second later it was. "But yes, we was, Precious, we was." 

"Look, uh, I don't know what your game is, but I—" Bilbo started, then took a hasty step back when the creature jumped towards him. 

"Games? We love games, doesn't we, Precious? Does it like games? Does it? Does it? Does it like to play?" A childlike glee covered creature's features. 

"Maybe?" Bilbo said, uncertain. 

The creature, Bilbo named him Gollum for it was a word he had spit out several times, held up his hands with an excited expression on his face. "What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees. Up, up, up it goes, and yet, never grows." 

Bilbo couldn't hide his surprise. "...The mountain." 

Gollum began to laugh uproariously. "Yess, yess, oh, let's have another one, eh? Yes, come on, do it again, do it—do it again. Ask us." Before Bilbo could even sprout out a riddle, Gollum's face twisted once again. "No! No more riddles. Finish him off. Finish him now. Gollum! Gollum!" 

Gollum snarled, and rushed Bilbo with the intent to kill him, but Bilbo came up with a plan quickly. He held up his hand, and spoke quickly. "No! No, no, no. I wa—I want to play. I do. I want to play. I can see you are very good at this. S—so why don't we have a game of riddles? Yes, just, just you and me." The hobbit crouched until he was level with Gollum who had halted, and Gollum scuttled forward. 

"Yes! Yes, just, just—just us." Gollum nodded. 

"Yes. Yes. And—and if I win, you show me the way out," Bilbo proposed, certain that he could outwit Gollum. 

Gollum tilted his head, serious consideration on his face. "And if it loses? What then?" His blue eyes drilled into Bilbo, setting the hobbit on edge. "Well, if it loses, Precious, we will eats it! If Baggins loses, we eats it _whole_." 

There was a pause for several seconds where Bilbo digests that news, his heart jumping underneath his ribcage. The hobbit stared down at Gollum before he found himself nodding. "Fair enough," he stood up, and put away his sword. 

"Well, Baggins first," Gollum said, impatiently as he rested his hands and chin on the edge of a rock. He watched Bilbo with great anticipation of a feast. 

"Of all the things that are broken, this makes the least noise and is always done on purpose," Bilbo posed the riddle, and he watched as Gollum sat there for a minute in thought. 

Gollum kept opening his eyes and mouth before he changed his mind about the answer, and this goes on for nearly two minutes before he finally replies questioningly. "Bread?" 

An unhappy look crossed Bilbo's face, because the answer is correct. He nodded his head, and Gollum laughed throatily. "Bread! Yes, my Precious. Its answer is bread! Our turn." Gollum got closer and closer to Bilbo, but the hobbit was careful enough to keep the large rock between the two of them. The hobbit did not doubt that the creature would go back on his word if so inclined. "Voiceless it cries, wingless flutters, toothless bites, mouthless mutters." 

"Just a minute," Bilbo stated, and paced a few steps to help him think. As Gollum muttered behind him, the hobbit observes the water nearby and notices the tiny waves that form as a breeze ruffles the surface of the water. 

"Wind. It's wind!" Bilbo cried out, relieved. "Of course it is." 

Gollum snarled in frustration and began to slink around, approaching Bilbo. "Very clever, Hobbitses, very clever." 

When he got too close for comfort, Bilbo hastily pulled out his sword and pointed it at Gollum again. He stared unblinkingly at Gollum. "Ah, ah, ah, ah. W—When pronounced, it sounds nothing like the word," the hobbit said, and he watched as Gollum thought hard. 

"Pronounced…nothing like the word…" 

"Well?" Hope soared in the hobbit's chest. 

"It's nasty. Uh, sought, uh, by many…" 

"Give up?" Bilbo arched a brow. 

"Give us a chance, Precious, give us a chance!" Gollum pounded his fists against the floor in his frustration and his puckers his face deeply, then suddenly his eyes open wide. "Sentenceses! Sentenceses! That's the answer, Precious! That's the answer!" 

Bilbo was startled by a noise behind him, and he saw a bat fluttered away when Gollum's laughter got to loud. The hobbit immediately twisted back around, but his heart leapt into his throat when he saw that Gollum was nowhere to be seen. He cursed himself with most colorful words that would have had the entire Shire blushing several shades of red as Gollum posed his next riddle from somewhere within the shadows. "Ahh. We have one for you: All things it devours, birds, beasts, trees, flowers. Gnaws iron, bites steel, grinds hard stones to meal. Answer us." 

The answer did not come to Bilbo right away, and he could hear a giggle of anticipation echo off the walls. "Give me a moment, please, I gave you a good long while," Bilbo walked around to think while also trying to keep an eye out for Gollum. "I don't know this one," he whispered underneath his breath, a bit of horror in his tone. 

"Is it tasty? Is it scrumptious? Is it _crunchable_?" 

Bilbo caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and he pointed his sword at Gollum who tried to jump him from behind. "No! No! Let me think. Let me think," Bilbo stated, tersely as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. 

"It's stuck. Bagginses is stuck," Gollum practically sang, with an unholy glee in his gaze as he watched Bilbo pace back and forth next to the water. An eerie smile appeared on the creature's face. "Time's up…" 

Realization hit Bilbo and he turned. "Time. Ti—the answer is time," Bilbo stated, ignoring 

Gollum hissed, angrily. 

"Actually, it wasn't that hard now that I think about it," Bilbo said, with a faint smile. 

" _Last_ question. Last _chance_ ," Gollum growled, through clenched teeth. "Ask us. ASK US!" 

"Yes, yes, alright." Bilbo strolled to the edge of the lake to think, and he absentmindedly rubbed his pocket. He feels the indention of the ring inside, and he could feel the cool metal through the fabric of his coat. It was as eerie as it was soothing, and he almost asked Gollum to guess what was in his pocket. However when he opened his mouth, his brows pinched when he recalled his dream. "Why…" He turned toward Gollum, his spine straightened as a strange sensation flooded through him. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?" 

Gollum's face twisted in confusion. "Why…is a raven like… _a writing desk_?" It made no sense at all. 

"Yes. That's the riddle," Bilbo's chest rose, and he felt a bit of pride rise in his chest. This was a riddle that Gollum couldn't solve, the hobbit was certain of that. 

Gollum kept repeating the riddle underneath his breath, a scowl upon his face as he ran a hand across his hairless scalp. Over and over, he repeated the riddle until a scream of frustration worked up in his throat. "That's not fair. It's not fair!" Gollum threw down the rock he had been clutching. 

Bilbo made a startled noise, and realized Gollum had intended on bludgeoning him like he had the goblin. The hobbit edge further away from Gollum as the creature demanded, "Ask us another one." 

"No, no, no, no. You said, 'Ask me a question.' Well, that is my question," Bilbo stated, firmly. He sounded much more brave than he felt. "Why is a raven like a writing desk?" 

Gollum gave him a dark look. "Three guesses, Precious. It must give us three," the creature demanded, with a snarl. Spittle flew out of Gollum's mouth, and Bilbo barely held back a grimace. 

"Three guesses…" If Bilbo wasn't certain that the creature wouldn't guess what it was then he would have hesitated. "Very well, guess away." 

Gollum crouched on the floor, trying to think of the answer. He muttered potential answers to himself and slapped the floor in increasing anger and ferocity as he fails to come up with the right answer. Gollum threw himself on the ground with a scream, and he shook his head rapidly. 

Bilbo watched the whole tantrum, and he could feel the victory at hand when suddenly Gollum went still. Gollum took deep ragged breaths, and pushed himself slowly off the ground. "Games. Games…little Bagginses plays games. Why is a raven like a writing desk…? We has a better questions, don't we, Precious? What has it got in its pocketses?" His face contorted with anger, and Gollum _knew_. 

Bilbo's blood froze in his veins. 

And the ring in his pocket grew heavy. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER! CHAPTER EDITED
> 
> Gollum's question: Now some of you are wondering how did Gollum know to ask "What has it got in its pocketses?" The ring wants to be found. It needs to be fought over, and in my hand, the ring silently coerced Bilbo into asking the question in the movie so it could ignite the already volatile situation between Bilbo and Gollum so they would fight. Here, the memory of Elizabeth, made him ask a different question. So the ring made Gollum ask instead. Just like it made Smeagol kill his best friend, the ring wanted only one to survive Bilbo and Gollum's encounter.  
> RRs are appreciated.


	19. For Whom the Bell Tolls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT! GLAD YOU ALL LIKE THE FIC! :D I didn't have a song that really inspired this fic, but if you have one you'd like to recommend, let me know. :D  
> Thank you love112love, Direhart, alien94, Ayyyeee, GrammarGrrrl, Catann, moon_goddess_118, sweetsgal, Dusk_Lilly, earedien, kalin128, annievogel90, greasergirlalex, Starkid_Impala015, Just4Me, mehg11, EbonyLeijon, edelweissmaia, DanteOphydian, RegalMagnus, fairykia, Elashor_Seger, Dances_With_Vulcans, candy_hearts, i11iad, AgentLilyAEvans, and hwinde as well as 61 guests left kudos on my story! :D  
> Thank you, PhoenixFire0427, AloraKast, mdowney3, Catann, Avendia, Rosethebookwurm, Aryannaoakenshield, idrilcelebrindal, Dusk_Lilly, Starkid_Impala015, AgentLilyAEvans, candy_hearts, i11iad for the bookmarks!  
> Thank you Katarina for the comments.

CHAPTER NINETEEN 

"For Whom the Bell Tolls"

* * *

Whatever this was…it was not sleep. 

Elizabeth knew this. It was not sleep, at all. A coldness burrowed deep underneath her skin, down into the bones and she let out a deep breath. She found herself standing in an abyss, with a strange glowing misty rolling around underneath her feet. "Hello?" She called out, her voice sounding too soft. It was like her voice was being strangled by some unforeseen force. 

No answer came. 

Elizabeth drew in one breath then released it. Her hands shook uncontrollably and she stumbled around dizzily like a drunker after a barrel full of mead. The path beneath her feet trembled, and shook, like aftershocks from a distance earth quake. She continued down the path for what seemed like forever as the dark overcast fluttered above her, letting on the barest hint of light through. She was hunched over, holding her right side as she crept along. There were several moments in which the silence pressed in on her, and there was utter stillness that surrounded her. Then she came to an abrupt stop when suddenly there was a shadow in the path before her. Her eyes narrowed, and she could barely make out the silhouette of a man with his back towards. A nagging feeling tickled the back of her mind as if she needed to remember something, but all she felt was complete confusion. After a brief hesitation, she slowly moved forward. "Hello?" She whispered out. 

The man did nothing. 

"Hello?" She tried again when she was closer. For several moments, he simply stood there. Then he drew in a deep breath, and turned around to face her. Elizabeth reeled back, a pain as sharp as a elven blade lanced through heart and she couldn't breath. It was as if all the air seemed to vanish right out of her lungs, and she stood there rooted to the spot. Tears welled up in her eyes, she couldn't stop them from flowing down her cheeks. "D…Daddy?" 

"My dear girl," Charlie Morgan smiled sadly at his daughter. "You have grown up so much, have come so far but there is still so much to learn." 

Elizabeth was stunned into silence. She stood there breathing for several moments, and she couldn't believe her eyes. "Dad?" She choked out, her voice a strained sob. She reached out with a trembling hand, too afraid to reach out in fear of him disappearing completely. 

"You have to let go, Lizzie," Charlie said, his voice held a slight echo to it as he spoke and the image of home shimmered behind him. She could see her mother, her sisters and her brother standing on the porch patiently. Sad smiled painted on their faces, and they waved to her as if saying good-bye. Her heart hurt so bad as the wound that had never healed ripped right open, and she let out a cry before she brought her hands to cover her mouth. Her father just looked at her with eyes filled with sorrow and love. "You are gone from us, just as we are gone from you. There is no force that can change that though we may wish it so." He grasped her right hand, his skin colder than hers as he pressed something metal in the palm of her hand. "Live, my precious little girl. Live for yourself and let yourself be happy." 

It was not darkness this time that greeted her as her eyes slid open. She grimaced, pulling back and blinked her eyes hard until they focused onto the bright glowing light. Dawnbreaker laid within her grasp, it's jewel shining more brilliant than ever before. She laid there for several seconds, staring at in disbelief before slowly life started to flood back into her limbs. All sense of pain, fatigue and wariness fled to the back of her mind. Her heart beat was sharp steady beat underneath her ribcage, and Elizabeth rose to her feet one last time. 

Her resolve became as unbreakable as mithril, unwavering and resilient. Wiping the dry blood and mud caked to the side of her face, Elizabeth drew in a deep breath. Tightening her grip of her sword, she began to march down the path. This time she was going to find her way out of the dark. 

* * *

Dozens of goblins carried massive instruments of torture on their shoulders, bringing them to the Great Goblin. The Great Goblin had a wicked grin on his face. "Bones will be shattered, necks will be wrung! You'll be beaten and battered, from racks you'll be hung. You will lie down here and never be found, down in the deep of Goblin-town!" He sang and watched the dwarves squirm underneath his gaze. Thorin just glowered darkly, his expression unwavering. He would never allow his fear to show, not to these foul creatures. He tensed as one of the goblins went about examining the weapons, and picked up Orcist. The goblin slid it a few inches out of its sheath before he let out a scream of horror and threw the sword down. In landed in the view of all goblins, and howls of fear echoed through the cavern as the goblins scurried back away from the blade. The Great Goblin's smirk dissolved as he ran rapidly back to his throne, trampling many goblins on his way. He pointed at the sword, with a fearful expression. 

"I know that sword! It is the Goblin-Cleaver, the Biter, the blade that sliced a thousand necks!" He shouted so loud, and the goblins all attacked the dwarves. Whipping them with ropes, and leaping upon them. "Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all! Cut off Oakenshield's head!" 

Thorin fought with all the force of a caged animal determined to tear it’s way to freedom. Slamming his fist into the goblin's face, and heaved it away from him. It was all for naught for one goblin leapt onto him, and shoved him hard against the ground while another held up a blade prepared to behead him. Thorin stared up at the blade held high above his head, and gritted his teeth together seeing the end. 

_But an end it was not._

Suddenly, there was a massive explosion of bright light that immersed the entire cavern cleansing it of every shadow. It drowned out all the noise as a shockwave rippled through the area, and it flung all the goblins into the air. The torture machines were obliterated into dust, and everyone was knocked down to the ground. Even the Great Goblin with his massive girth was flung down as easily as a child’s toy. 

Slowly the light ebbed away, there standing with staff raised in the air in one hand, a sword in the other and pointy hat atop his head was none other than Gandalf the Grey. The dwarves and goblins alike stare at the wizard in shock. "Take up arms!" Gandalf urged the dwarves without preamble. "Fight! Fight!" 

Thorin, and his brethren, were spurred into movement at the sudden change in the tide of battle. Thorin grasped Orcist and slashed the goblin that ran at him. Dwalin and Fili had reached the pile of weapons, and tossed weapons back to the others while Nori and Kili kept the goblins away. During the scuffle, Oin managed to reclaim his hearing trumpet, although it was quite flattened. Nori while fighting is flung to the floor and the Great Goblin with a roar, rushed him with mace raised. 

"Nori!" Ori shouted, fearfully. 

Thorin jumped forward, and deflected the Great Goblin's blow. With a snarl on his lips, Thorin slashed at the Great Goblin forcing him backwards. The Great Goblin stumbled in an attempt to avoid the blow, but in doing so, fell right off the edge of his platform, falling to the fathomless depths below. 

"Follow me. Quick! Run!" Gandalf shouted. 

Cutting down the goblins around, the dwarves and Gandalf ran along a pathway leading away from the throne room. It seemed, to Thorin, that all was not lost. 

* * *

Bilbo ran as fast as his feet would carry him. He jumped over rocks, and struggled to keep a steady grip on the slick ground beneath his feet. "Give it to us!" Gollum's scream came from somewhere in the darkness behind him. 

Thinking quickly, Bilbo ducked into a side cavern. He stood still and held his breath, his eyes fixated on the entrance. He watched with wide eyes as Gollum rushed past, and relief tore through him so immense that it almost he nearly crumbled to his knees. Somehow he managed to stay upright, and he turned to venture further into the cavern. He tried to squeeze through the crack in the wall, but it was too small. The hard edges of the cavern grasp at his waistcoat, and would not release him not matter how hard he tugged. He gasped loudly during his struggle then froze in fear. 

Gollum attracted by the noise, backtracked. Bilbo looked up at him, and watched helplessly as Gollum approached him. "It's ours. It's ours!" Gollum snarled, violently. 

Bilbo exhales as much as he could, shoving himself through the crack with all the force that he cold muster. His waistcoat buttons ripped, and hit Gollum in the face. Gollum recoiled in surprise, and hissed like an angry snake. 

Bilbo slipped, and fell down onto his back. The ring which had been in his hand (he doesn't even recall getting it out of his pocket) flew upward into the air. Bilbo's eyes widened, his hand reached upward for the ring as it descended. Instead of landing in his hand, the ring magically slid onto his finger. He blinked at bit in shock, and jumped when Gollum jumped into the area. 

Bilbo tensed, prepared for the worst. Then Gollum rushed past him, looking around for Bilbo. The hobbit's face twisted in confusion before Bilbo took a hard look around him. All the colors around him were muted, and the edges of everything are blurred and wavy. There is a burn emanating from his ring finger, a cold burn. 

"Thief! Baggins!" Gollum ran away. 

Bilbo slowly stood up in shock. "Well, then," he said, softly. His voice distorted as the world around him, and he looked down at the golden band on his finger. _What a useful little thing,_ Bilbo thought, a hint of a smile on his face. For a long moment, he stared at the band before he shook his head hard. He still needed to get out of the cave, and he couldn’t get distracted by a pretty bauble, no matter helpful. 

* * *

Water sloshed around her ankles as she jogged across through the cave, Elizabeth had seen no sign of life. No a single creature, insect, animal or person. Thankfully, that also meant she had not seen any more goblins as well. She came to a halt in a large circular room, and took a moment to take a much needed breath. The running took more out of her than it normally would have, and she held onto her side that burned like wildfire. Which meant that her ribs were bruised, cracked, or broken. None of them good aliments to have, especially trapped down here. She gulped down air as her eyes darted around the room. It was empty and she did not hear a sound save for the echo of running water. Bones laid scattered across the stone floor, some animal and some very human. Swallowing thickly, a tremble ran down her spine as she made her way down the path. 

Her foot then collided with something, and she jumped back in surprise. Her eyes darted to the ground and she stared in open shock. Scattered around her feet were three satchels and one knapsack, that were very familiar. The make of them were Rivendell. Her heart sank to the bottom of her stomach, and she knelt down, laying Dawnbreaker off the side. Her finger shook as she pulled open one of the satchel, and a small silent cry of denial tore through her lips when she pulled out Ori's journal. She set it down, and opened another to find Bifur's small wood carving of a deer. 

_Something had happened to the dwarves,_ she thought as icy fingers of dread ran across her skin. She laid her palm flat against the leathery texture of the bag, and a gust of air rushed out of her lungs. The bags still held a trace of warmth to them, which meant whatever had befall them only happened recently. A glance upward gave no indication of light, just an impenetrable darkness that loomed overhead that not even Dawnbreaker's light could fully break. She swallowed thickly, clasping a hand over her mouth. The bags had fallen from above, but she no sign of the dwarves. 

That was not as reassuring as it should have been. 

Running her fingers down her trembling chin, she stared at the bags for a long moment before she gathered as much as she could without straining herself. She grabbed the important things first, the ones she knew held sentimental value and then things she knew would be useful like Oin's medicines. Hefting the light over her shoulder and making sure it would not hinder her much, Elizabeth dashed down the path with a hasten pace. 

Her pulse hammered at the base of her throat, and she felt panic prickle along her scalp. _The Company had to be alright. Bilbo had to be alright. Thorin…had to be alright,_ Elizabeth thought with a dread clawing at her heart. Elizabeth didn't know what she would do if something happened to them, and she hadn't been there to stop it. 

* * *

Gandalf and the dwarves ran through the suspended passageways of Goblin Town, with hundreds of goblins running after them. "Quickly," the wizard craned his head to glance at the dwarves over his shoulder. 

"Faster!" Bofur yelled from the back. 

Dwalin narrowed his eyes, and growled when he saw several goblins charging them from the front. He surveyed his surrounding, and shouted, "Post!" He and some of the dwarves quickly cut a guardrail post from the side of the path. Together they held it out in front of them like a massive spear. "Charge!" Dwalin bellowed, and they rushed the oncoming goblins. With one good thrust, they swept the goblins away with long rail. Dropping the rail, Dwalin pulled out his axes and began his assualt. Gloin knocked one goblin who fell and landed on another suspended path, breaking the path and dropping all the goblins on it into the darkness below. The rest of the Company also took up the fight, and several goblins snarled as they swung on ropes towards the dwarves. "Cut the ropes!" Thorin shouted, and he slammed Orcist against the ropes holding the raised platform in place. Bifur and Fili came to his aid, and within seconds the platform fell outward. The goblins hopelessly entangled within the swinging ropes. 

As Kili fought, several goblins start shooting arrows at him. His expression becomes slightly miffed, and he raised his sword to deflect some arrows with his sword. With a quick hand, he grabbed a nearby ladder and dropped it on the oncoming goblins. Some of the other dwarves run forward, and shove the ladder until the goblins fell off the edge of an unfinished path. Using the ladder, the dwarves cross their makeshift bridge and Dwalin was the last to cross. He slammed his axe down, breaking the latter and prevented the goblins chasing them from crossing. 

"This way!" Gandalf called out. 

They continue to run through the maze-like paths, and get on a section of the path suspended by ropes. Thorin shared a quick look with Dwalin, and they sliced some of the ropes. "Hang on!" He shouted in warning to the others. The pathway swung away from the rest of the path, and towards a different route. "Jump!" Thorin ordered, his room leaving no room for anything, but compliance. 

Several of the dwarves managed to jump to the other path, however the suspended path swung back like pendulum to where it started. Goblins descended from above, latching on to the path before it swung once again. This time the rest of the dwarves and Gandalf manage to jump onto the new path. They cut the rest of the ropes, and the path fell taking the goblin with it. The chase continued, the dwarves and Gandalf killing goblins along the way. 

Gandalf struck the stone above them with his staff, and the rock to fall down. It began to roll in front of the Company, squashing the goblins in their path. Soon they approached a bridge between two walls of the cavern. Thorin was certain that this was the way out, but before they could cross the Great Goblin suddenly broke through from underneath the bridge and pulled himself up onto the bridge, directly in the Company's path. "You thought you could escape me?" The Great Goblin roared, swinging his mace twice at Gandalf. 

The wizard dodged, nearly falling, but managed to right himself at the last second. The Grey wizard gave the Great Goblin a look as if he were half tempted to turn him into a toad. 

"What are you going to do now, wizard?" The Great Goblin taunted. 

Gandalf glowered, then leapt forward. He jabbed the Great Goblin in the eye with his staff. The Great Goblin dropped his mace and clutched his face in pain. "Ow, ow, ow!" The Great Goblin cried out. Gandalf did not give the beast time to recover and sliced him across the stomach. The Great Goblin fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. "That'll do it," the Great Goblin stated, faintly as black blood oozed out of the wound. 

Gandalf swung his sword and sliced the Great Goblin's neck, causing him to fall down dead. His weight caused the bridge to start shaking, then suddenly the section of the bridge on the which the company is standing on shattered from the rest of the path. It started sliding down the side of the cavern at a terrifying speed, and the dwarves hung on for dear life. The world was a blur of motion, and the air rushed past them, defeaning in it’s force. It seemed a messy spot on the cavern floor was inevitable, but luck was on their side, for the cavern walls grew closer together, scrapping the edge of the wooden platform. Chips and boards were eroded off the platform, but it slowed the momentum, so when it landed at the base of the cavern, the dwarves were relatively unharmed, even though they were buried in timber. 

Gandalf got up from the pile of wreckage with heavy groan and inspected the dwarves who are still stuck in the mess. He is relieved to see that they are very much alive, and undamaged. 

"Well, that could have been worse," Bofur stated, with a laugh. Then suddenly the heavy corpse of the Great Goblin landed on the wreckage squishing the dwarves further. They all cried out in pain, and Bofur was not laughing anymore. 

"You've got to be joking!" Dwalin growled out. 

The dwarves extricate themselves from the rubble, one by one. Kili grunted as he pulled free, and he glanced upward, only to step back in shock. "Incoming!" He shouted. 

"There's too many! We can't fight them," Balin's eyes were wide at the sheer number of goblins running down at them. It was an entire army! 

"Only one thing will save us: daylight! Come on! Here, on your feet!" Gandalf shouted at them, holding his staff up warily. The dwarves moved quickly and helped the last few out of the rubble before they rushed through the tunnel to freedom. 

* * *

Gollum jumped into a tunnel, a tunnel with an exit to the side of the mountain. The shine of daylight is visible through the tunnel behind him. "Wait, my precious! Wait!" Gollum was visibly distressed, tugging at the few strands of hair he had left on his head. "Gollum, Gollum," he croaked out, sickly. 

Bilbo approached silently and slowly, invisible with the ring on. He has his sword drawn and Gollum jumped with alarm at a noise. Bilbo froze, and Gollum quickly hide behind a rock. The hobbit stood stock still, and then gaped when he saw Gandalf and the dwarves run by, escaping through the exit. 

They were alive! He almost wanted to scream with joy, and his heart began to beat at a frantic pace. As the dwarves and Gandalf run down the side of the steep, tree-covered mountain, Gollum jumped back down into the tunnel. 

The only way for the hobbit to escape was to get past Gollum. Bilbo locked his jaw, a tremble ran down his spine as he put his blade to Gollum's neck. He drew in a quiet breath, pulling back to swing the sword and cut off Gollum's head. Before he could make the motion, Gollum turns around, looking down the passageway behind him. He cannot see Bilbo, but Bilbo saw him as clear as day in that moment. There was such extreme sadness and loneliness on Gollum's face, and for a moment Gollum almost looked there was a shred of humanity still within him. Bilbo stared, a mixture of pity and sympathy swirling inside of him as he remember Gandalf's words on courage. 

He lowered his sword, and determined look passed his features. He took a step back, then another. Gollum heard the footsteps, and began to growl destroying the illusion of humanity. When Gollum moved slightly off the side, Bilbo darted past him and Gollum let out a scream. Gollum jumped, and scrabbled around him, trying to grab the hobbit. 

He could not. 

"Baggins! Thief! Curse it and crush it, we hates it forever!" 

The shout echoed after Bilbo, but in that moment, he could not care. He rushed down the mountain after the rest of the Company. He hoped that he could catch up with them. 

Far in front of him, Gandalf finally came to a halt and started to count the dwarves as the took a moment to catch their breaths. "Five, six, seven, eight...Bifur, Bofur...that's ten...Fili, Kili...that's twelve...and Bombur…" Gandalf frowned heavily, and for the first time, he realized he had not seen the hobbit or Elizabeth at all. "That makes thirteen. Where's Elizabeth? Where's Bilbo? Where are they?" 

A hush fell over the company, and Thorin bowed his head slightly before he raised his gaze to the meet the wizard. Regret was etched onto his features, and his gaze was somber. "I know not of what happened to the Halfling. The last we saw him was in the tunnels," Thorin stated, his tone quiet. 

The wizard's eyes narrowed. "And Elizabeth? What of her?" 

Thorin's eyes held guilt and a silent apology in them, and Gandalf's expression dropped in shock. "No…" The wizard's voice was barely a whisper, a tragic expression upon his face. "No, it cannot be so." 

"She fell," Thorin swallowed thickly. "Saving the Halfling's life." Gandalf closed his eyes in quiet despair. The Company kept quiet, allowing the wizard his moment to grieve when Dwalin growled. "Curst the Halfling! Of all the times to get lost," the burly dwarf shook his head back and forth, running a hand across his scalp. 

"Dori, was he not with you?" Gloin asked. 

"Don't blame me!" Dori glared. 

"Well, where did you last see him?" Gandalf demanded. 

"I think I saw him slip away, when they first collared us," Nori stated, with a light frown. 

"What happened exactly? Tell me!" Gandalf’s voice vehement as he stared down the dwarves. To think that Elizabeth and Bilbo could both be lost to the world in the same day…on a quest that he brought them on was not a thought the wizard relished at all. He needed to know that there may be a chance, no matter how slim that the two could be alive. 

Bilbo finally caught up to the rest of the group, hiding behind a tree about to pull of the ring when he heard Thorin speak up. "Master Baggins saw a chance, and he took it. If he is as half as smart I believe him to be then he is well on his way to Rivendell," Thorin stated, his brows pinched. 

"So you'll leave him to the mercy of the goblins?" Gandalf challenged. 

"We will not survive another encounter with the goblins. They numbers are too great," Thorin sighed, his hands clenched into knuckle white fists at his sides. The lines around his blue eyes tightened, and his jaw clenched tight. 

"B-but what of Elizabeth?" Kili was the one to pose the question. His brown eyes were wide, and his expression filled dismay. "What…what of her body? We can't just…we can't just leave her there." Raw pain flashed across Thorin's face and he turned away from the company. He did not want to think of the atrocities that would visited upon Elizabeth's body should the goblins find it. It made his stomach twisted, and the blood in his veins turn boil with rage. The painful ache in his chest grew tenfold as he stared back at the Misty Mountains with a heavy heart. 

"If we had the means lad, we would," Balin told him, quietly. "As it is, we do not. We have not the strength to take on a full hoard of goblins nor do we have the time to search for where she fell. It would be a fool's errand." Gandalf bowed his head. "And one that Elizabeth would not wish for you to take," the wizard said, his voice steady and calm. "She would never wish for you to risk yourself in such a manner." 

Thorin looked thunderous at wizard, his eyes brimming with anger and before the Company's leader could get anything out, Bilbo pulled off his ring and stepped out of his hiding spot. "Is everyone alright?" The hobbit asked. Shock rippled through the entire Company, and they stared slack jawed at the hobbit. Gandalf started to chuckle then he laughed. "Bilbo Baggins! I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life!" 

Bilbo gave a half smile, but it held a hint of sadness. 

"Bilbo, we'd given you up!" Kili's face split in a grin. 

"How on earth did you get past the Goblins?" Fili looked astounded. 

"How, indeed," Dwalin stated, a bit impressed. 

"That…doesn't matter," Bilbo said, sliding the ring carefully into his pocket so no one would notice. Gandalf noticed, and he looked a bit perturbed. His eyes looked to Thorin, who stared at him calculating. "I don't want to leave her in there. I don't want to leave her in the cold and dark with who knows what. It's not right. She didn't deserve to die that way, but I know Elizabeth. I know that Gandalf is right when he said that she wouldn't want you to risk yourself for her. Not like that. She would want you to your home back because to her that was more important." There is a somber silence that falls over the Company. Thorin stares at the hobbit as if he had not seen anything quite like him before. "I know you doubt me, I know you always have. And you're right, I'm soft. I have no idea what I am doing out in the wilds and I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my armchair. And my garden. See, that's where I belong. That's home." Bilbo looked at all of them with an earnest expression on his face. "And that's why I came back, because you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you. And I will help you take it back if I can. It's…what Elizabeth would have done, and it's what I'm going to do." 

After Bilbo's speech there is a silence as the dwarves stared at Bilbo, thinking over what he said. A pleased smile crossed Gandalf's face, happy that Bilbo had changed for the better. _If only Elizabeth could be here to see it_ , the wizard thought, sadly. 

Thorin looked ready to speak when a howl echoed through the valley. It was the howl of Warg, and everyone tensed. "Out of the frying pan…" Thorin growled. 

"…and into the fire," Gandalf finished, grimly. "Run! RUN!" 

* * *

Dawnbreaker's blade slid through the goblin's skull, and Elizabeth grunted as she pulled it free. She twisted around swung her sword in a wide arc to slash at the goblin who leapt at her. One second she had been alone down here, trying to find a way out and the next goblins descended from above. She took off running as fast as her feet would take her, down the maze like corridors of the dark depths. Her heart pounded against her temples, and her lungs burned inside of her chest. She could hear the scrap of footsteps not far behind her, and she turned a corner only to find herself at a dead end. “No, no,” she breathed out, shaking her head. She was about to back track when she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Turning to look, she saw a long crack in the cavern wall, just big enough for her to slip through. Not wasting a single second, she maneuvered her body to fit through, and let out a sigh of relief once she made it to the other side. 

Another long passage stood before her, and Elizabeth counted her blessings because it was better than another dead end. Licking her dry lips, she started to run again. Jumping over large rocks that littered the path, and keeping her eyes peeled for anything that moved. Forever seemed to pass, the tunnel never ending and she stumbled into the wall. Her cheek pressed against it, and the horrible sense of helplessness sank bone deep. She closed her eyes against the wave of frustration tears that started to form, when she heard the sound of movement nearby. A scuffle, like two people fighting, with grunts and the sound of metal hitting rock. 

"No! NOOOO!" It was a horrible scream. 

Elizabeth brows knotted, and she pushed herself slowly off the wall. Her footsteps were soundless against the stone as she walked forward, and came around the bend. Her eyes widened when she saw two goblins fiercely beating another creature. It was a small, gaunt thing with grey skin. It was not a goblin nor an orc. Strangely it's feet resembled that of a hobbit's without any hair. For a moment, Elizabeth was tempted to sneak around and flee, but her conscious wouldn't allow that. Putting Dawnbreaker carefully back into its sheath on her back, Elizabeth withdrew her bow and fingered her arrows to find on that hadn't broken with her fall. Finding a good arrow, she knelt down back onto her haunches and held her bow horizontal and long slung, she notched the arrow back and aimed. 

She released the arrow, the bow string propelled the arrow forward and straight into the goblin's skull. The nearest goblin went down, and the other jumped, startled. Before she could get another arrow readied, the small creature leapt onto the goblin and tackled him to the ground. "Nasty! Nasty goblineses!" The small creature screamed, bashing the goblin's head in with a rock it picked up off the ground lightning fast. It didn't stop until the goblin's brains painted the dark rock, and it turned towards Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth's eyebrows climbed into her hairline. It was not a goblin nor an orc. It's eyes were unnaturally large, and it's body gaunt. It’s skin pale like death, and the creature just looked the picture of misery. "What's this, Precious?" It asked itself. "Pretty eyes…pretty hair…smells like the steams of burning water, blue as deepest rock. What does it wants? Whys did it save Gollum?" 

"Being beaten to death by a goblin is not a fate I wish upon any creature," Elizabeth replied, evenly. She slowly edged her way towards the exit, the blaze of the afternoon sun like a beacon in the distance. Her heart leapt at the sight of it, and it took everything not to just rush towards it yet the mysterious creature held her at bay. There was a sense of unease that trembled through her as the creature, Gollum, stared at her unblinkingly. The small creature had obviously driven insane, and Elizabeth had a feeling he was more dangerous than he appeared. 

Gollum narrowed his eyes. "Keep to the shadows, Precious. The goblinses don't look in the shadows. Did the pretty lady hide in shadows, too?" 

"What?" Elizabeth choked out. 

"Once you take in the darkness, you don't miss the lightses anymore," Gollum said, with an eerie smile on his face. "Gollum sees. We sees the darkness inside of you…just like the darkness inside of us." 

Elizabeth stared down at him for several seconds, a coldness settling into her limbs. "We are not the same," Elizabeth denied, shaking her head back and forth slowly. "We _are_ not." With that Elizabeth turned and fled as fast as her legs could take her. She didn't look over her shoulder to see if Gollum made to follow, and she didn't care. Her eyes were focused on the sunlight in the distance, and she leapt out of the cave straight into fresh air. The abrupt change was startling, and Elizabeth felt dizzy, swaying slightly on her feet. With her free hand, she grasped at her chest as she drew in a deep gulps of air. Her eyes glanced around the tree covered slops, and the shadows grew more and more as the sun dipped further behind the horizon. 

Night was nearly upon her. She needed to find the Company before it got too dark for her to see. She jogged down the hill when she noticed some tracks in the muddy ground, and slowed down. With a frown, she knelt to inspect them and her heart leapt in her throat. It was the Company! The tracks were unmistakable theirs, and she spotted Bilbo's footprints as well as Gandalf's. Normally this would have been cause for celebration if it had not been for the Warg tracks that followed on top of the Company's. 

The tracks were still fresh, so she had to have missed them by minutes. A howl ripped through the evening air somewhere in the distance, and Elizabeth was on her feet in an instance, sprinting down the hill as fast as she could. 

* * *

The Wargs were nearly upon them. 

The Company raced down the mountain as fast they could, but it still was not enough to outrun Wargs on foot. The daylight faded, and the inky black of night covered the sky. Soon the foremost Warg caught up to ground, and leapt at Bilbo. The hobbit quickly ducked behind a rock, the Warg's jaw snapped in the air over his head. Bilbo watched as the Warg landed in front of him, and growling it charged him. Bilbo pulled out his sword, and held it out in front of him just in time. The charging Warg had chance to slid to a stop, and impaled itself in the head on the sword and fell down dead. Bilbo blinked in surprise, and a few more Wargs caught up to the fleeing dwarves. However, they are quickly dispatched. Howling in the distance grew louder, and Bilbo knew that this was far from over. 

The Company reached a large outcropping of land with a few trees growing on it, but they are trapped. There is no way off the outcropping besides a great fall down the mountain. Gandalf quickly glanced around, before he shouted, "Up into the trees, all of you! Come on, climb! Bilbo, climb!" 

Bifur threw an axe, killing a Warg which was approaching him while Bofur jumped off a rock and grabbed a tree branch, using Dwalin's head as a stepping stone to the tree. Other dwarves begin to climb into the trees as Bilbo tried to pull his sword out of the dead Warg's head. It is firmly stuck, but he doesn't stop trying. 

"They're coming!" Thorin warned. 

Gandalf climbed to the top of the furthest tree, while Dwalin boosted Balin up. Thorin, Bombur and the rest climb up the trees and finally Biblo managed to pull his sword out of the Warg. He looked up and almost cried out in alarm when he sees the main body of Wargs and Warg riders approaching. He quickly clambered up a tree as the Wargs rush below him. Dozens of Wargs circle the trees in which the Company members are perched. Gandalf stared down at them with his brow pinched, then he noticed something sitting in the same tree as him. He reached out his staff, and the little moth grasped onto the tip of it. 

He brought the moth close to him, and he whispered something to it. He then blows it gently, causing it to flutter away. Suddenly the Wargs growling ceased, and everything went silent as a Pale Orc on a White Warg approached. 

Shock and horror flashed across Thorin's face. "No…" his breathed out in denial, his voice rough. "It cannot be!" 

As his White Warg prowled forward, Azog stroked it fur with an idleness. 

"Nuzdigid? Nuzdi gast?" He spoke in his horrible tongue with an ominous smirk upon his features as his yellow eyes locked on Thorin. "Ganzilig-I unarug obod nauzdanish, Torin undag Train-ob." Do you smell it? The scent of fear? I remember your father reeked of it, Thorin son of Thrain. 

Thorin was stricken, his pain and grief was something that he could not hide when he realized that Azog had captured his father. Shards of pain splintered his insides, and his heart felt like a bottomless well of grief. All those years spent wondering, Thorin had tortured himself with never knowing what became of his father that day. He had kept up a stubborn hope, even after he say his grandfather beheaded and his brother's slain corpse, that his father was alive. His grief and anger quickly turned into a burning rage, a blistering anger that coiled through him and his hand grasped the hilt of his sword. "You lie!" Thorin snarled, viciously. 

Azog chuckled, deeply before he pointed a finger in Thorin's direction. "Kod, Toragid biriz," he growled out, with a large smirk on his face. "Worori-da!" _That one is mine! Kill the others!_

At Azog's command, the Wargs leapt forward and tried to climb the trees. They jumped as high as they could, scrabbling at the tree trunks and breaking apart branches in their jaws in an effort to get to the dwarves. The trees shook violently at the attack, and the dwarves struggled to hold on. 

"Sho gad adol!" Azog roared, his metal claw raised into the air. The Warg riders all shouted and cheered. _Drink their blood!_

The trees shook back and forth, their strong roots not able to hold them steady within in the ground and soon enough the first tree started tipping backwards. Bilbo gasped, and as the tree started to fall he and the dwarves jumped into the next tree. However, it was an effort made in vain for like dominoes, all the trees start to fall. All the dwarves, Bilbo and Gandalf managed to jump onto the last tree, on the very edge of the cliff. 

The tree stood tall, but Azog laughed in the face of it. 

* * *

Motionless, Elizabeth could only stare from behind the tree that she used to hide out of sight. It had only taken her minutes to catch up with the Company, and what she found turned her blood to ice. Blood drained from her head and face, she thought that she might faint. There was a bussing in her ears, and her entire body felt numb as the bow shook in her grasp. Darkness began to edging it's way into her vision, and she clumsily slumped to her hands and knees. "No…no," she choked out, tears of panic filling her eyes. 

It was _him!_

Azog astride his White Warg. There was not mistaken him, not even at this distance. Her heart hammered in her chest as fear spiked within her blood, and she felt her entire body tremble. Elizabeth would have never considered herself a coward. In fact, those who knew her would call her too foolhardy for her own good. 

In this moment, she was afraid. More afraid than she had ever been in her entire life. Memories had lashed through her with no remorse, and every terror she had ever faced at the Pale Orc's hand came back with perfect clarity. He was all her nightmares come to life and made flesh, and a ragged breath was ripped out of her lungs. The knuckles on her left hand lifted, and pressed against her mouth painfully, to stifle the sound. Her right palm flat against the wet ground, she dug her fingers into the dirt and felt rooted to the spot. Helplessness burned in her veins like mercury, and she felt like there was nothing she could do, except watch. 

Desperation and fear clung to the air, there seemed to be no way out when a sudden gleam appeared in Gandalf’s eye. Hit with a sudden burst of genius and he grabbed a pinecone using the tip of his staff to set it ablaze. He tossed it down amid the Wargs, who howl and retreat in fear of the flames. Azog’s face twisted, startled at the unexpected resistance, then he sneered angrily at the wizard. Gandalf lit two more pinecones and tossed one down to Fili. 

Fili caught the pinecone, before he threw it. It hit a Warg straight in the face. The Warg gave a shriek, and stumbled back. Everyone started to gather the pinecones and Gandalf set them on fire. They tossed the pinecones down at the Wargs, and all the area around the trees quickly caught on fire. 

The Wargs snarled as they were forced to back away. One even shrieking as it was set alight. Azog roared in anger and frustration as the dwarves cheered. Out in the forest, Elizabeth heart hammered wildly in her chest, and she licked her lips. She could not sit idly by while those she cared about were in danger. She had to help them, and she swallowed down her fear and slowly began to edge her way forward carefully so that she did not alert the Wargs and orcs. 

The dwarves' triumph cheers were too soon. The roots of the tree that held on for so long began to give way, and the tree tipped precariously over the edge of the cliff. It came to a rest sticking straight out away from the edge of the cliff. Gandalf looked down and saw the ground far, far, below. 

Elizabeth felt her heart leapt into her throat, and a scream caught in her throat. "No, please, no," she whispered out, and she couldn't see any of the dwarves any longer. She couldn't tell if any of them fell or not. 

Back at the tree, Ori momentarily lost his grip on the tree and fell, but manages to grab on to Dori's leg. "Ahh! Oh, oh, no!" Ori cried out in fear. 

"Mister Gandalf!" Dori shouted, because with the extra weight he was quickly losing his grip. Gandalf quickly swung his staff down. Dori managed to grab the end of it when his hands slipped off the bark of the tree. His face ashen, he glanced down at Ori who was hugging his leg tightly. "Hold on, Ori!" 

Thorin looked at Azog, hatred and anger written on his face as the flames start snaking up the fallen tree. Smoke rose higher into the night as ashes fell like snow, Thorin rose up through the flames with his sword drawn. Bilbo shot him a startled look for he could not seriously be thinking of charging Azog alone, but no one else was able to stand at his side, for it they were to move they would surely fall. His eyes unblinking as he marched down the leaning truck through the flames, each step filled with determination and purpose. 

Azog spread his arms with a smug grin on his face, welcoming the challenge. Elizabeth froze, her eyes wide. Even from here Thorin painted an intimidating figure, with Orcist out at his side and his oaken shield raised, rage etched onto his face. Her heart slammed up into her throat as she watched Thorin rushed towards Azog, his hair and cloak billowing about him like some kind of wild man. It was like a nightmare that played in slow motion, and her shout was soundless as it fell from her lips. 

Thorin growled, his sword raised and his oaken branch shield held in front of him. His eyes burned like a blue righteous fire, a blacken rage unfurled in his heart as he stared down Azog the Defiler. The fiend should be dead, his bones nothing more than dust in the earth, and the sight of him enraged Thorin beyond sense and reason. He looked the picture of the conquering hero, as if nothing could fell him then Azog crouched, then roared as his Warg leapt at Thorin. With a great paw, it slammed Thorin down into the ground. 

Elizabeth pitched forward, as if she had been stabbed in the heart and the blade twisted violently. Pure horror and disbelief stretched across her face, and she felt a fear like no other blossom in her heart. "Get up," her voice was choked sob, a desperate plea. "Thorin, get up!" 

The other dwarves in the tree look on in shock. None could belief what happen to their leader. 

Thorin struggled to get back on his feet, using Orcist to help get his balance and his ebony hair a curtain hiding his expression. As soon as he stood, Azog and his White Warg on him. Azog swung his mace, and smashed Thorin in the face before the Company’s leader had even the chance to react. Thorin was brutally flung to the ground by the impact. 

"Nooo!" Balin cried out. Dwalin tried to get off the tree, to assist Thorin, but the tree branch he is holding on to broke. He swung precariously over the edge, and unable to go to Thorin's aid. 

Azog thunderous shout of triumph over the apparent defeat of his enemy. Bilbo managed to stand up on the tree, and watched as the White Warg clamped its jaw around Thorin like a dog did to a chew toy. 

When Thorin's yell of pain echoed through the outcropping and the sound was too much for Elizabeth to bear. The fear was still great, but it had been replaced by something even greater. A need to protect her friends. "NOOOOO! LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Elizabeth shouted at the top of her lungs, launching herself to her feet. Pulling an arrow free from the quiver, she drew it with a swiftness that would have made an elf enviously. She released it, and it sliced through the air and pierced the White Warg's foreleg, and the beast bucked back, tossing Thorin from his jaw. Thorin was thrown several feet away onto a flat rock nearby. He landed with a sickening thud, and his sword slipped out of his head. He was almost unconscious, barely hanging on by a threat. 

"Elizabeth?" Bilbo called out in shock. 

"It's the lass!" 

"She's alive!" 

_Elizabeth?_ Thorin thought, his thoughts chaotic and fleeting. His brows pinched as the darkness closed in around his vision. "It…cannot be…" he breathed out, his head falling to the side. He could barely make a figure in green in the distance. His heart twisted up inside of him for it had to be a trick. A wishful illusion granted to him at the last moments of his life. Perhaps Mahal was merciful, after all. Azog snarled, tearing the arrow out of his Warg's leg before he raised his gaze. He saw the woman draw another arrow as she rushed across the ground. "Biriz torag khobdudol," Azog stated, his upper lip curled. His feral yellow fixated on Elizabeth intensely, and the corner of his lip lifted at his new challenger. "You," Azog ordered another one of his riders in his dark language, "bring me the woman. Alive. It had been a long time since I've had…entertainment." 

Elizabeth knew not the language of orcs, nor did she care to, but even though the words were lost on her a tremble of fear ran down her spine. Gritting her teeth, she launched another arrow at a Warg rider that approached her, and it clipped him in the arm. The orc hissed angrily and ripped the arrow out of its shoulder without even flinching. It then kicked the Warg's side and the beast gave a vicious roar, and she had to drop into a roll to avoid it leaping at her. She spun around to face the Warg, and she had no time to fire another arrow. She abandoned her bow on the ground, and pulled out her knives. 

She started backing up carefully, glancing over her shoulder at Thorin. She needed to get to him, she needed to be by his side, but as if sensing her thoughts Azog put himself between her and Thorin. She swallowed thickly, her gaze darting from Azog to his Warg rider then to Thorin. Jaw clenched tightly, she held up her knives and the Warg rider leapt at her. With a swift uppercut, she plunged one of her knives through the lower jaw of the Warg. The blade went through the bottom, and came out the top of the Warg's nose. With her other, she stabbed the Warg in the eye, straight to its brain. 

The Warg rider let out an enraged scream, swinging it's mace down at her. Elizabeth didn't have time to pull a blade free, and she darted off to the side. She cried out, and stumbled when the mace glanced her left shoulder. A shaky breath ripped through her mouth, Elizabeth twisted around only to have a large hand clasp painful tight around her throat. 

"You!" Shock flashed across Azog's face, then a split second later an evil delighted smirk curled his lips upward. His sharp teeth bared, and he hauled her up towards him by her throat with her legs dangling in the air. Icy cold terror ran through her heart as she found her face to face with the monster of her nightmare, and her eyes pupils dilated with her panic. Azog merely laughed, running his clawed hand against the flesh of her cheek in a mocking caress. He said something else to her, and it had garnered anger and horrified shouts from the dwarves. A scream tore up Elizabeth's throat as the blades of his mechanical hand bit into the tender skin of her jaw, forcing her to turn her head towards Thorin. 

A Warg rider had leapt off his mount, and headed towards Thorin. The orc drew forth his blade, and placed it against Thorin's neck. Thorin's blue eyes stared towards Azog, locked on Elizabeth not sure what was real anymore and what was a figment of unconsciousness seeping in. His blue eyes were filled with such pain, that it made something twist viciously in Elizabeth's chest. "Thorin, get…up…" she begged as Azog's hand tightened around her throat, cutting off her air supply. A lone tear rolled her cheek. 

The orc raised his blade up over his head, prepared to behead Thorin. The orc never got the chance, for the most astounding thing happened. 

Bilbo Baggins rushed headlong into battle. The sensible respectable hobbit ran with a battle cry to end all battle cries and tackled the orc to the ground. Bilbo had not thought of the great height or the danger of falling. Nor did he stop think about how small he was compared to the bulky orcs. All he could see was two people (Thorin whom he came to respect, and Elizabeth who was a sister to him) in danger. With a hoarse shout, he stabbed the orc over and over again until the orc fell still. With a surprisingly vicious snarl on the hobbit's face, he stood up putting himself between Thorin and the Pale Orc. "Let her go," Bilbo demanded, his voice raspy. His heartbeat roared in his ears, and his sweat fingers clutched at the hilt of his sword. Hobbits did not hate, and Bilbo had never thought he would be the exception. In this moment, he _hated_. He hated Azog. He hated these orcs, and he hated that his friends were in danger because of them. And by Yavanna's green earth, Bilbo Baggins was not going to lose any of them. His hazel bore up into Pale Orc's face without blinking and he hand clenched around his sword, prepared to take down all of the orcs if he had to. 

Azog was not intimidated by a mere Halfling. To prove this, he brought Elizabeth closer towards him, until his hot breath splayed across her cheek. The scent of rotten and flesh filled her nostrils, and she struggled in his grasp. Azog chuckled at her defiance, and then ran his tongue slowly over the underside of her jaw, licking up the blood there. Elizabeth couldn't fight the whimper that left her mouth, and bile rushed up her throat as she shoved at the Pale Orc's chest in an attempt to get away. The Pale Orc could taste her fear, and like all predators, it excited him. She clenched her eyes tightly shut as she reached behind her, her finger brushed the hilt of her blade still buried in the dead warg nearby. It's rider had leapt off and marched towards Bilbo. 

Elizabeth slid her eyes open, and look past Bilbo towards Thorin. His blue eyes glazed, a faraway look in them before his eyelids slid closed, his skin turned an ashen color. Something inside Elizabeth's chest twisted painfully, and her fingers grasped the end of her blade. Her fear and pain twisted into rage, she ripped her blade out of the dead Warg's eye socket and slammed right into Azog's thigh. Azog roared in pain, and released Elizabeth from his grasp. She fell down onto the ground, and scrambled to her feet as the White Warg snarled at her. She slashed it across its muzzle and the White Warg hissed, take a step back. Twisting around, she pulled her other dagger free from the dead warg before she rushed forward into the fray. 

The Warg riders hadn't the chance to get to Bilbo for out of the blazing tree came Fili, Kili and Dwalin. They plowed into the Wargs from the side and started fighting them. In confusion, Bilbo yelled and leapt forward, wounding a Warg. 

"Kili!" Elizabeth dodged the blow of a mace to pick up her bow. She tossed it through the air, and Kili caught it. Immediately the dark haried dwarf pulled an arrow out of his quiver and shot a rider off his Warg while Dwalin sliced the Warg's throat open. Fili stood by Thorin and Bilbo as the White Warg approached them, Azog's face twisted into a horrifying and terrible sneer. 

Then suddenly a noise came from above. A great whoosh of air and the familiar beat of wings. _Could it be…?_ Hope soared in Elizabeth's heart, and her gaze turned skyward. Through the smoke and the inky night, she caught a glimpse of the giant Eagles. Some swooped down, snatching up Wargs and orcs alike in their claws before tossing them off the cliff to their doom. Others knock down great trees, crushing the beasts beneath them. One even fans the flames with the flutter of its wings, causing an inferno which burns the Wargs. Azog snarled in frustration, the upper hand he had quickly slipping from his grasp. He twisted the reign, forcing his warg to advance on Thorin Oakenshield, intent on getting his prize. But he would not have it on this day. 

An Eagle had gently grabbed Thorin and his sword in it’s talon, flying far out of Azog's reach. The Pale Orc snarled, and lunged forward as if to have his White Warg try to attack the Eagle that held Oakenshield. However, another one swooped down and slashed at Azog's mount. The White Warg roared, pulling away. 

Bilbo let out a hysterical yelp when one of the Eagle picked him off the ground and proceed to toss him into the air, only to land on the back of another Eagle. Elizabeth let out a breathlessly laugh made from equal parts of relief and exhaustion as an Eagle picked her up in its talons. It was a surprisingly gentle hold, and it tossed her to unto the back of another Eagle. Her stomach rolled with a ticklish sensation before she landed on the Eagle's back, her fingers fisted into its feathers as it soared higher and higher. 

The rest of the Eagles proceed to snatch the dwarves and out of the tree and fly away. Below a great roar of anger and frustration echoed into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * *
> 
> So I have had issues with people plagiarizing my work. I worked it out with said author and they've taken out all parts of my story out of theirs. I have this story several chapters ahead on ffnet so I'm always worried that people thinking they can go take stuff from there thinking my story isn't on here. So if you all see anything please let me know so I can report it or message the author.
> 
> END OF CHAPTER! CHAPTER EDITIED  
> References and languages:  
> Elizabeth's Conversations with Gollum: It is inspired an encounter in the game Dragon Age: Origins, in the Deep Roads with an insane dwarf named Ruck. Now for those who are worried about what Gollum meant, Elizabeth will not fall to the ring's charms. Gollum sees the curse that is upon Elizabeth.  
> HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED! :D


	20. The Calm After the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT! GLAD YOU ALL LIKE THE FIC! :D I didn't have a song that really inspired this fic, but if you have one you'd like to recommend, let me know. :D  
> Thank you Sayomi_Night, 0102and03, LRazz, love112love, Direhart, alien94, Ayyyeee, GrammarGrrrl, Catann, moon_goddess_118, sweetsgal, Dusk_Lilly, earedien, kalin128, annievogel90, greasergirlalex, Starkid_Impala015, Just4Me, mehg11, EbonyLeijon, edelweissmaia, DanteOphydian, RegalMagnus, fairykia, Elashor_Seger, Dances_With_Vulcans, candy_hearts, i11iad, AgentLilyAEvans, and hwinde and the 66 guests that left kudos! :D  
> Thank you, Lmd_dk, PhoenixFire0427, AloraKast, mdowney3, Catann, Avendia, Rosethebookwurm, Aryannaoakenshield, idrilcelebrindal, Dusk_Lilly, Starkid_Impala015, AgentLilyAEvans, candy_hearts, i11iad for the bookmarks!  
> Thank you Emrfangirl and Zirak for the comments.

CHAPTER TWENTY 

"The Calm After the Storm"

The Eagles soared through the sky over a great distance and over many landscapes. Elizabeth laid slumped against the Eagle's neck, but the ache of exhaustion could not lure her into unconsciousness. No, she held onto the pain that burned through her so she could watch Thorin. He hanged limp in an Eagle's talons, and no once had he stirred. Even when Fili called out to him, he had not stirred. She had never felt so helpless in her entire life than she did in this moment. There was nothing she could give him; no magic healing that was in her ability to do that could make him well, and fear lanced through with a whitehot precision. 

There was a massive structure in the distance, that looked vaguely like a bear. Elizabeth faintly recalled it was named the Carrock, but the inane thought fled her mind when she watched the eagle carrying Thorin gently deposit him and his sword upon a flat area on top of the Carrock. As soon as the Eagle she rode upon landed, Elizabeth was off of it and over at Thorin's side. Her fingers reached up, brushing away the strands of hair that fallen into his face. Her heart clenched at the ashen sheen to his skin, and palm pressed against his cheek. His skin was cold to the touch, and her stomach twisted into a violent knot. Balin reached her side. "Is he going to be alright? Balin?" There was a tremble in her voice. 

"I don't know, lass," Balin's voice was a hoarse whisper. A look of anguish was upon his face as he stared down at Thorin. 

"He will be," Dwalin stated, determinedly. He gave a slight scoff at the thought of Thorin not being fit as a fiddle was laughable, but even he could not mask the despair written in his eyes. 

"He _has_ to be," Fili said, quietly. Kili stood at his brother's side, his head bowed and a knuckle white grip on Elizabeth's bow. 

Elizabeth let a shaky breath. "This is all my fault," she breathed out. If she had only warned them that Azog was alive then perhaps…perhaps none of this would have happened. "I knew…I knew the Pale Orc was alive. I _feared_ it. I should have said something…anything…" 

If any dwarves were surprised, or had any misgivings over what Elizabeth had just said, they were not given the chance to say anything for Gandalf moved through the throng of dwarves. "Azog has long sought to the end of the Durin Line. No blame should fall upon you," the wizard told her, sharply. "Now dry your eyes for all is not lost. Thorin Oakenshield shall live this day, and many more to come if I have anything to say about it." 

"You can heal him?" Kili asked, hopefully. 

"Not completely," the wizard stepped forward as Elizabeth reluctantly pulled back from Thorin's side. "But enough to pull him back from the brink of death." Gandalf placed a hand upon Thorin's cold forehead and murmured in a strange language underneath his breath. 

Elizabeth felt something shift in the air, the breath caught in her throat as Bilbo's hand came to rest on her shoulder and she watched the color and life flood back into Thorin's face. 

A quiver ran through the unconscious dwarf from head to toe before he drew in a great breath, and his blue eyes flickered open. He stared upward at the clear blue sky, the night had slowly faded giving way to the new dawn and there was a look of confusion on his face. He took in several deep breaths and blinked hard. His brows furrowed, and he tilted his head towards Balin who sat at his side. "Balin?" A silent question in his voice. 

"Easy, laddie," Balin couldn't help the smile on his face. The older dwarf was relieved to see Thorin wide awake. "We thought we lost you." 

Thorin grimaced, each breath painful. "The hobbit?" Thorin asked, with a deep frown. He vaguely recalled the Halfling rushing to his aid. He had never expected such bravery from the hobbit, but once again, Bilbo Baggins surprised him. Clenching his eyes closed momentarily, he felt that he had forgotten something else. Something very important. 

"He is fine," Dwalin said, with a light laugh. "Not a scratch on him. The lass is fine, too, if you were wondering," the gruff dwarf sent Elizabeth a wink. Elizabeth's face grew hot, and she shot him a narrowed eyed look before she ducked her head down slightly. 

"Lass…?" Thorin breathed out confused, until he sat up slight with the help of Fili. His eyes instantly fell upon her, and he felt his breath stolen from his very body. His lips parted in awe, a look of astound and wonder flashed across his face as his blue eyes, made even more blue by the morning's light, stared straight at Elizabeth as if he could not believe what he saw. Light spilled across her hair, highlighting the hidden ambers and golds and tawny that caressed her face in endless messy waves, she sat there beside him, looking tired and battered, yet very much alive. 

"Hello," Elizabeth said, a little bit breathless. Something in the way he looked at her caused a fluttering in her heart and she couldn't stop the soft smile that stretched across her face. Her fingers ghosted across his forehead then drew them through the man's peppered locks. It was an unconscious gesture, she felt the need to touch him to make sure he was truly well for herself. 

Thorin could scarcely believe his eyes. He reached upward, the great palm of his hand cupping the side of her face in a gentle caress. A breath escaped him when he felt the warmth of her soft skin against the palm of his hand, and his thumb brushed across her cheek. "You're alive," he breathed out, a whisper of awe in his voice. His gaze held a strange look in them, the look that softened the lines of his face. 

"I am," Elizabeth said, with a small quirk of her lips. 

"I had thought you a dream," Thorin admitted, a torpid tone to his voice as if he stared up at her like she was a gift from Mahal himself. 

Dwalin smiled smugly at Nori, who reluctantly handed over a bag of coin. In fact, several bags of money were exchanged between the dwarves. Not that Elizabeth or Thorin noticed, for they were far too absorbed in each other in that moment. Elizabeth let out quiet breathless laugh, and blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over her cheek. "A good one, I hope," she said, her hand resting upon his other hand that laid upon his chest. There was a tangible connection in the air, lingering between them like some unbreakable bond as they stared into each other eyes. 

"I saw you fall," Thorin said, still not quite believing. His touch was surprising gentle for such battle worn hands, his fingers traced the outer shell of her ear. She was here, alive and well. It seemed so impossible, and yet it was very much real. An ache blossomed in his chest, but it was not one from pain or from his wounds. It was a different kind of ache, one both painful and pleasantly warm at the same time. 

"I got back up," Elizabeth said, simply. 

"Aye, that she did," Bofur said, with a hint of pride in his voice. "I reckon you made that Pale Orc think twice about messing with you." 

"Pale Or…" It all came rushing back to Thorin. Vague and foggy glimpses of Elizabeth fling herself into battle with the orcs by herself, and his eyes locked onto the dark purple bruise upon her pale throat. A large violent hand print branded on her throat, and he felt outrage ripped through him. "He did this to you," Thorin growled out, angrily as he sat up after a moment's struggle, his hand sliding down to Elizabeth's neck. His fingers brushed against dark swollen skin, and Elizabeth stifled a light gasp of pain. It was quite tender. 

"I made him pay for it," she said, breathlessly. 

"He has not paid nearly enough," Thorin stated, his voice a low rumble. His thumb brushing her pulse, his eyes staring hard at the bruise as if to will it away with his gaze alone. "What you did was foolish," he told her, gruffly. He raised his eyes to meet hers, and he saw her give him a wry look. 

"Perhaps I was following your lead," she retorted back at him, but her voice was suspiciously light. The fear she had felt when she thought him lost, there were no words adequate to describe it. The warmth of his hand against her neck made her want to lean into it like a cat seeking attention, to bask in the simplicity of the touch and she drew in a slow breath. His scent of musky oak and earth surrounded her. 

Thorin's lips curled into a small, reluctant smile while his fingers brushing her jaw before he retracted his hand. Elizabeth bit back a noise of discontent at the loss, but it was much harder to hide the way a flush rushed into her cheeks. A pleased feeling stirred within her at his touch, and left a tingling warmth in its wake. 

"Yes. It seems foolishness seems to have gotten to us all as of late." Gandalf watched the scene with a slight twinkle in his eyes before he placed a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. Elizabeth felt the magic before Gandalf said the healing words, and while her wounds were not completely gone, the pain had ebbed away to a bearable state. "Thank you," she whispered out to him, quietly. 

Gandalf patted her shoulder, gently. "Now, Mr. Baggins, I believe you also took a nasty tumble," the wizard turned towards the hobbit who stood off to the side. 

"Oh, no! I'm fine!" Bilbo hated to be fussed over. He felt remarkably well for the giant over grown mushrooms had broken his fall quite nicely. Besides, he wasn't sure he trusted Gandalf enough to let the wizard use magic on him. "No magic necessary!" 

"I would do as the wizard says, Master Baggins," Thorin intoned, a small smile of amusement upon his lips. The aloofness in which he had gazed upon the hobbit before had eased from his eyes, and he looked upon Bilbo Baggins as he would a comrade. "He becomes quite foul tempted when he does get his way," the dwarf stated, carefully ignoring the wizard's stony glare. "It would not bode well, if our burglar passed out before I had a chance to thank him for his bravery." 

"Oh, there's no nee…" The hobbit's shoulder slumped when he saw everyone, even Elizabeth staring at him expectantly. "I'm not going to talk my way out of this, am I?" 

"I'm afraid not," Gandalf smirked ever so slightly. 

"Bother and confusticate! Shall I ever be free from the stubbornness of you all?" Bilbo threw his hands up in the air. "Fine! Fine! Work your magic," the hobbit planted his feet down on the ground, with his hands on his hips. The wizard chuckled as the hobbit stared up at him grouchily through the whole healing process. 

"Well, magic or no magic," Oin huffed, arms crossed. "I shall be seeing to those wounds, and I will put up with no arguments. What with all of you running about like chickens with their heads cut off straight into danger, it'll be a feat if we make it to the mountain in one piece." 

"Ah, leave them be," Gloin shook his head at his brother. "They've been through enough bother without adding your bellyaching to it." 

"Bellyaching! You won't be minding my bellyaching when they are burning with infection and fever! Hallucinating and cavorting about without a sense about them!" Oin snapped, with a sharp glare at his brother. 

Elizabeth pressed her fingers to her lips in an effort to stifle her laughter when she noticed something in the distance. Could it be…? A shock rippled through her, and she placed a hand to her heart. There in the distance was a great mountain that stood upon the horizon shining in the dawn's light a beacon, and the sight of it stole her very breath away. It was more beautiful than she could ever imagine. "It's the mountain," she breathed out. "It's Erebor." 

One by one everyone followed her gaze, and a hush of awe fell over the company. Thorin with the help of Fili and Dwalin rose to his feet, and Elizabeth placed a hand on his chest to help steady him when he stumbled ever so slightly. His hand reached up, and covered hers for a brief moment, his thumb brushing across the back of her hand before he released it. He twisted around, and had his first glimpse of his home in years. He felt his heart tremble in his chest with joy, and he could not stop the smile that stretched forth across his face. He took on step then another until he stood on the very edge of the cliff, as close as he could to the mountain. 

He drew in a deep breath and he swore that he could taste the mountain air from here. His heart was gladdened by the sight, and the ache from wounds did not seem so great anymore. "Our home," Thorin breathed out. 

It was as if the burden of the journey eased in that moment as the Company shared this moment staring out across the great distance to the mountain. It was so close, yet so far away. Elizabeth felt like nothing could steal this moment from them. It was their, and no one else. She stared out at the mountain, feeling a sense of familiarity pang inside her chest like she had been greeted by an old friend. She stood back, allowing the dwarves to stand the closet to the mountain as they could get and her eyes fell upon Thorin. 

He, like the mountain, was silhouetted in the bright of the morning like and even though his back was turned towards her she saw the burden that weighed so heavily upon him lift. It was not gone. It was impossible to remove a burden completely from a king's shoulders, but in this moment, he was at ease. As if he felt the weight of her gaze upon, Thorin turned and looked back at her. The smile on his face stole her breath away, it was one of the purest joy and it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life. 

The way the years lifted from his face, he looked younger and the hope shined so bright in his eyes so bright that it could easily rival the brilliance of the sun. The sight of home had renewed him and his strength. All the danger and battles they had been through since the beginning of the journey had been made worth it when his eyes fell upon that mountain. 

A bird chirped at them as it flew overhead, and towards the mountain. "A raven! The birds are returning to the mountain," Oin stated, excitedly. 

Gandalf concealed a smile. "That, my dear Oin, is a thrush." 

"But we'll take it as a sign," Thorin stated, smiling as he turned back towards the mountain. "A good omen." 

"You're right. I do believe the worst is behind us," Bilbo breathed out, more than a bit relieved. 

Thorin knew that wasn't true, but he allowed the burglar to have his moment. He looked back at Elizabeth and saw her standing back out of the way. He didn't know how or why, but there was a strange feeling that overcame him when his gaze met hers. It happened every time, Thorin would feel different in her eyes like he was invincible and taller than any mountain in all of Middle Earth. 

Elizabeth smiled back at him. 

* * *

They descended from the Carrock, on Gandalf's advice even though they were more than exhausted. However the need to put further distance between them and Azog went unspoken, and was more potent than the fatigue that they felt. Thorin with the assistance of Dwalin was the last to descended down the thin stair-like incline that wrapped around the cliff, so he could take on last long look at the mountain in the distance. The dangerously path took nearly half of the day to transverse, and by the end of it, Elizabeth had been never been so grateful to be on solid ground. 

Green forest surrounded them, and Gandalf took charge in leading them through it. Thorin gave no protest to the wizard this time, and the Company followed without complaint. When the sun began to dip behind the horizon, they found a small alcove on higher ground where the trees guarded them from all angles. It was there they went about setting up camp. 

"About time we got off our feet," Fili happily plopped down on a log, and he kicked off his boots as quickly as he could just grinning broadly when Kili gagged at the horrible smell. "I thought they would fall off." 

"I wish they had," Kili pinched his nose shut. 

"Put you damn boots back on," Dwalin demanded, kicking Fili's leg none too gently. "Your stench will let our enemies know where we are from miles away." 

Fili pouted ever slightly, but did as he was told. Kili drew in a deep breath when it was safe, and Fili laughed at him. Kili grabbed some leaves off the ground, and tossed them at his brother's beard. Fili sputtered, wiping the leaves out of his beard and trying to pick them all out while Kili chuckled. 

Thorin collapsed upon a rock, and leaned his back up against a tree. He slumped with a heavy breath, all his aches easing ever so slightly. There was a crackle as Gloin used flint to light the fire, and slowly with nurture of a few breaths and dry grass, the flames grew brighter and brighter. Tree limbs that had been gathered were gently set upon the infant fire, and soon grew into a healthy blaze, giving all of them much needed warmth. 

Dwalin cast a curious look around the camp. "Where be the lass? I do not see her amongst our numbers," he commented, with a worried frown. 

"Bathing," Kili answered. 

"Bathing?" Thorin arched a brow. 

"Aye, there is a pool of water over yonder," Fili gestured to throngs of trees where the faint trickle of a creek could be heard. The lush and thick vegetation provide a great barrier for privacy. There was a faint glow of light through the tree limbs, a small fire. "She's refusin' to let Oin treat her until she has bathed. Kili and I told we'd be more than happy to guard her whilst she took a dip." 

Thorin entire body stilled, his eyes slanted over his nephew. His expression was one not of amusement. 

"That'd be like having the wolf guard the sheep, aye?" said Dwalin, dryly. 

Kili shrugged, that idiotic grin affixed. 

Thorin turned his gaze off of his nephews as the hobbit walked past them, and he drew himself up off the rock with great effort. He held his hand out to Balin, who moved to help him and made his way towards the hobbit. "Master Baggins," Thorin called out. 

"Mister Thorin," Bilbo turned around, with an uncertain expression on his face. He wasn't entirely sure what to expect because since the battle Thorin had been more genially to him. He wasn't sure if this was some sort of lapse, or something. 

"I have done you a disservice, Master Baggins," Thorin admitted, his hands clasped in front of him as he came to stand beside the hobbit. His expression was lighter than it had been through the whole journey "I have wronged you. I laid judgment upon you that you did not deserve, and I hope that you will find in your heart to forgive a stubborn dwarf for his transgressions." 

"A-all is forgiven," Bilbo said, a hint of hesitation in his tone. "We hobbits aren't ones to hold grudges. Well, Baggins are not. Now if you had been dealing with Sackville-Baggins then you would have a whole different matter on your hands." 

Thorin inclined his head. "You are very kind, burglar," he stated, with a half smile. "Elizabeth was wise in saying to not underestimate you. I should have took her words to heart then, but I shall endeavor to do so now. I owe you a debt for such bravery, and I fear that is a debt that I will never be able to fully repay. Though that does not mean, I will not try. I would like to start by declaring you blood-kin," Thorin offered, and there was something in his tone that let Bilbo know that this was no small matter. 

"Blood-kin?" Bilbo blinked. 

"Are you certain, Thorin?" Balin asked. 

Thorin glanced at his old friend out of the corner of his eye. "Is there any reason I should not? Has the hobbit not earned the right to be called one of our own?" 

"Aye," Dwalin nodded. "He has." 

"But there are a way these rites are done, Thorin," Balin reminded him, as a word of caution. "Normally there is more time to prepare for such a ceremony…" 

"We can't rely on ceremony in the wilderness, my friend. And Bilbo Baggin's actions deserves an immediate return," Thorin stated, patiently. Balin looked hesitant before he gave a nod. 

"You…you don't have to do that," Bilbo shook his head. "It was nothing. I did what anyone else would have done." 

"Not everyone, Master Baggins," Thorin stated, humbly. He turned to face the hobbit face on, and placed his hand upon Bilbo's shoulders. "Blood-kin is a rite amongst our people. It very old and very sacred to our people. Few know about it, and even fewer are privileged to have it bestowed upon them. Bilbo Baggins, you did not have to come on this quest. You did not have to leave the comforts of home, but you chose to. You chose to so you may help us take ours back. Loyalty, honor, and a willing heart was all I could ask for, and you answered that when many others turned their backs. 

"From this day onward, I would henceforth call you Blood-kin," Thorin declared, proudly. He rapped his forehead against the hobbit's causing Bilbo to jump ever so lightly, and the hobbit was thankful that it was nothing like Balin and Dwalin's first greeting in his home. If it had been he dare say he would have been seeing stars, and the Company would have been down a burglar. "Our brother in arms who has fought with us, who had shed blood for us, and has defended us. Once we reclaim Erebor, all dwarves will come to know the great deeds you have done and there will not be dwarf with honor that will turn you away if you are ever in need of aid." 

Bilbo looked flabbergasted. "I don't know what to say," the hobbit said, flustered. He could tell by the look on all the Company's faces that this was a great honor, but Bilbo was a simple hobbit. 

"It is not nearly enough to express the gratitude that I owe you, but alas, it is all I have to spare now, murkhûn," Thorin told him, with a faint smile upon his face. "Such an oath is not easily given, nor is it easily broken." 

"Then…I thank you for the honor," Bilbo smiled. The acceptance that shown bright on the dwarves’ faces was highly unexpected, but welcomed nonetheless. It did seem that worst was truly behind them, except for the nasty business with the dragon. Can't forget that after all, Bilbo thought with a half sigh. "I shall cherish the title, and the privilege to be consider one of you." 

"It is an honor to have you amongst our Company," Thorin inclined his head, and released Bilbo from his grasp. He took a step back, and gave a light smile down at the hobbit. "I doubted the wizard's wisdom, and it has cast me a fool. I shan't doubt you again." With that as his parting word, Thorin walked away with Balin at his side. Dwalin followed after clapping Bilbo so hard on the back, the hobbit nearly toppled over. 

Bilbo almost got fussy, but the good natured grin on Dwalin's face made him bite his tongue. The dwarf was treating him as he would one of the others. Bilbo only hoped that they would come to realize that he was less…hardy as they were, and ease up on such friendly teasing. The hobbit waddled over the fire, and sat down on the log beside Bofur who was determined to put his good pipe to good use. 

The hobbit stared hard at the fire as Bombur worked on putting their meager portions together with the deer that the Eagles had given them for a supper. "Bofur…I have a question," Bilbo asked, a sudden frown on his face. 

"I may have an answer depending on what your question may be," Bofur tossed him a lop-sided smile, cleaning the gunk out of his pipe. It was one of the items that Elizabeth had managed to salvage, and all of them had been grateful. Ori had practically beamed with she returned his journal, and everyone had been thankful that she gave Oin his spare horn for they had to keep repeating themselves until he understood what they said. Dwalin after a while accused the older dwarf of doing it on purpose. 

"Thorin named me Blood-kin…because I saved him?" Bilbo asked, slowly. "Am I correct in saying that?" 

"That's what our leader's lengthy and fancy speech stated, yes," Bofur said, with a chuckle. 

"Then…why hasn't he named Elizabeth Blood-kin?" Bilbo asked, pointed at the trees that concealed Elizabeth from sight. "She has helped saved the Company many of times, and yet, this honor has not been bestowed on her." 

Bofur just gave him look. One where there was a mischievous glint in his eye, and a sly smiled on his face. "What understanding, do you have Blood-kin, Master Baggins?" He asked, pulling some pipeweed out of his pouch and stuffing it into the pipe. 

"Uh…" Bilbo's face scrunched up. "My understanding is that I'm in an honorary dwarf and that I am considered one of you." 

"That is the surface of it. Blood-kin is not something given without a great amount of trust, and it isn't done lightly. To call someone Blood-kin is to call them family," Bofur stated, and he gave a small laugh at the wide eyed look on Biblo's face. "In the eyes of the dwarves laws, you are our family though you are not of dwarven blood. As for why he has not bestowed this title upon Elizabeth…well, to put it simply Thorin does not see Elizabeth in…a family manner you could say. He has another title that I believe he may be wishing to call her if you catch my meaning." 

"Oh." Bilbo said, blankly. Then realization lit up in his eyes, and he repeated, "Oh." The hobbit nodded his head slowly. He supposed he could see it more clearly now that it had been pointed out for him. 

"Now that being said," Bofur pulled out a piece of parchment from his pouch and held it between his two forefingers with a large smirk on his face. "Want to place a bet?" 

Bilbo grinned. 

* * *

The lake was still, and quiet. She could hear the faint noises of crickets, and fishes splashing to the surface nearby as she waded waist deep into the water. After filling up the waterskins and such, Elizabeth had decided to bathe for she did not know when the next time she would get such a luxury. Inhaling a deep breath, she ducked her head beneath the water. A shudder ran down her spin as the cold water rushed over every inch of her skin. 

She scrubbed the grim, dirt and blood off of her skin determined to get clean as possible. Her eyes were clenched closed, her brows furrowed into a tight knot. Her heart throbbed in her temples, and her lungs began to ache for air. She tried to block everything out. Tried to keep herself focused upon her task, but against her will, the memories welled up within her. 

Icy cold terror ran through her heart as she found her face to face with the monster of her nightmare, and her eyes wide with fear. Azog merely laughed, running his clawed hand against the flesh of her cheek in a mocking caress. 

Her eyes snapped open, her entire body trembled and she could fell the scream rise up in her throat. The Pale Orc had not been far from her thoughts, the battle played over in her head ever second. She felt her stomach churn, and twist. She shook her head violently, but it did not help. The memory played across her mind almost as surely it would plague her dreams tonight. 

A scream tore up Elizabeth's throat as the blades of his mechanical hand bit into the tender skin of her jaw, forcing her to turn her head towards Thorin. 

A Warg rider had leapt off his mount, and headed towards Thorin. The orc drew forth his blade, and placed it against Thorin's neck. 

With a sharp movement, she broke the surface of the water and ran her fingers through her hair. She spent several moments working the knots and tangles out as best she could, before she paused when she caught her reflection in water. She stared hard and long at the image, her fingers reaching up to trace the bruises that discolored her skin. She could still feel Azog's hand around her throat, threatening to crush her and he easily could have. She swallowed harshly, grimacing at the flare of back before she made her way back to the shore. She pulled back on her tunic, and her trousers before she stood there alone for a long silent moment. 

She stared out across the lake that mirrored the clear night sky, and all the sudden felt wary. She had hoped beyond hope that Azog had found his way into a grave, and would never slink out of the shadows ever again, not even to haunt her dreams. Alas, it seemed that fate was not one to be kind. Elizabeth felt a shiver run down her spine, and she wrapped her around her midsection. 

"Lassie, ye decent?" Oin inquired, loudly. 

"Yes…" Elizabeth cleared her throat. "I am over here." 

Oin made his way through the trees, with a jar of salve and bandages in hand. "Let me have a look at ye," he gestured for her to sit down on a good sized rock. 

Elizabeth obeyed with little argument, too lost in her head to give any. She took a deep breath, and watched ripples spread out across the water as the gentle wind whispered by. There was a look on her face, a distant gleam her eyes as her thoughts slowly turned sour. "Oin…have you ever heard no good deed goes unpunished?" Elizabeth inquired, after a long moment. 

Oin paused in putting the salve on her neck, and looked at her with a serious look. "No. I've never heard a sayin' like that lass," Oin commented, after he fiddled with his horn held into his ear by some kind of straps. It looked uncomfortable to say the least, but he needed to listen as he worked. 

"My mother used to say it," Elizabeth recalled faintly. "I never quite understood what it meant, but I believe I am beginning to." 

Oin arched a brow. "Regret helping us, lassie?" He asked, a dry tone in his voice. 

"I didn't say that," Elizabeth shot him a look. "I have no regrets in joining this company, and I never would say such a thing." 

"No. You wouldn't," Oin nodded, finishing up the salve on her neck. He pulled back for a long moment, and leveled a look at her. "You just implied you were being punished for it. Is that how you feel? That you are being punished?" 

Elizabeth's eyes lowered to the ground. "I don't know," she whispered out, her throat tight. There was a torment deep within her gaze, an uncertain that she let few see and acknowledge even less. If Oin saw it, he said nothing. Instead, he went about his task saying little else. She did not believe it was that he was upset with her, but he knew that there was little else he could say in that moment to dissuade her from such thinking. 

"If I were to believe in such a thing as luck, I would believe that luck is firmly on your side," Oin commented, wryly. 

"Well, luck is a lady," Elizabeth flashed a small grin. "If that is all…" 

"Actually, I have a favor to ask of you," Oin stated, rather quickly. 

"Oh?" Elizabeth eyebrows shot upward. 

"I require your aid in…dealing with a most obstinate patient," the dwarf said, a grumpy expression on his face. "He has been avoiding me, much like you tried to do." 

Before Elizabeth could say something, there was a loud rustle of leaves and branches. Her head jerked towards the trees, and only a heartbeat later, did Thorin appear. His blue eyes immediate latched onto hers, and she nearly swallowed her tongue, her heart pounding in her chest. 

"Ah, good. Elizabeth has volunteered to assist me in dressing your wounds," Oin stated, with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. 

Thorin froze in step, a look crossed his features (one reminiscent of Kili when caught red handed doing something he shouldn't) before he gave Oin a decidedly stony look. 

His teeth flashed into a grin. "Come on now," Oin said again. "She don't bite." 

Thorin arched an eyebrow. 

"As long as I'm not given a reason," she said, with a slightly impish smirk. Humor seemed to help when she was feeling nervous, and for some strange reason, there was a new sense of anxious she felt when it came to Thorin. Like she was about to dive off a cliff head first into dark water, and she did not know what awaited her. 

Thorin made a smothered kind of sound that might have been amusement, if he'd been the type of man who laughed. There was flicker of it in his eyes. "Very well. Since I've been offered such reassurance," he said, with a regal incline of his head. 

Elizabeth swallowed harshly, a tight knot in her gut. One that grew in strength as Thorin walked towards her with long strides. Her skin warmed underneath his stare, Elizabeth drank in the fresh air in order to ebb away the heat that seemed to rise up beneath her skin. "What exactly do you need my help to do?" She inquired, her voice a little more shaky than she would like to admit. 

"Right now, I require assistance in removing his armor," Oin informed her, with a sly smile on his face. "From there we shall decide what to do when have seen the extent of the damage there." 

There was something about his smile that put Elizabeth immediately on edge. It made her feel as if she was missing completely vital, and she wasn't sure what that entirely was. As Thorin settled his back against a large boulder near enough to the small fire that he could soak in the heat, Elizabeth and Oin set about removing his armor. 

Elizabeth knew that this could not be easy for Thorin. Armor was a layer of protection, and for someone such as he to allow another to see him without it, was to extend a measure of confidence towards that person. Her hands shook, for a long moment of indecision then Thorin held out his arm towards her, a gesture of trust that could not be mistaken and Elizabeth's eyes flickered up towards his face, searchingly. 

There was a faint smile on the edges of his lips, that crinkled the corners of those vivid blue eyes, and she felt a pleasant hum flood through her blood. Her nimble fingers slowly removed the gauntlet on his arm, and his fingers brushed across her arm ever so gently. She took great care to pull the gauntlet free of his arm, and set it up his cloak that laid upon the ground. Piece by piece, Thorin's armor came off until he was left bare as he shed his tunic off with the help of Oin. 

Elizabeth drew in a sharp breath. She gaped at him, at the way the light gleamed on the powerful curve of his shoulders, the sinewy, vein-laced muscles in his arms. A dark patch of hair decorated the middle of his chest, spread lightly over his pecs. His skin was swollen and bruised. The unmistakable mark of the White Warg's teeth upon his skin, a reminder of how close to death Thorin had came. Her fingers brushed the wound lightly, and Thorin drew in a sharp breath through clenched teeth as the muscles in his stomach tensed beneath her touch. 

"It seems that luck has favored us all these last few days," Oin stated, after raking a grim eye over the wound. "Here. Start spreading the ointment on the bruising. We need to keep it from swelling and infection. I'll go see what we can salvage for bandages." 

"What? Oh," Elizabeth stared down at the jar of salve that was unceremoniously shoved into her hand, and then up at Thorin as Oin walked away. There was more than a little hesitation on her face, but she did not know from it stemmed. Was it from seeing Thorin in such a vulnerable state? Or did it have something more to do with the way her heart pounded in her chest? There was an ache in her fingers, a need that stirred deep within that made her wish to touch Thorin and there was a tight sensation in her stomach. A tight coiled feeling. She could not deny that something inside of her stirred by Thorin, in a way that no one else had ever done before. 

His hand came to steady her when she realized she had swayed ever so slightly, and his gaze wandered from her hair, to her eyes, and then briefly to her lips. "I promise I do not bite," he spoke, his voice low and gentle. "Unless I'm given reason that is." 

Elizabeth's lips parted in surprise by the humor before a breathless laugh escaped her. "Well…since I've been offered such reassurance," she spoke, trying to tease, but her voice shook ever so slightly. After a brief moment of hesitation, she shifted closer to him and coated her fingers lightly in the salve. 

With a deep breath, she pressed her fingers against his hot flesh. Even battered and bruised, he felt like a flesh covered steel. His body taunt and strong in ways that only a warrior could be. Thorin's jaw shook before he gnashed his teeth together, the muscles of his neck strained as felt her gentle touch. The salve did nothing to lessen the sensation of her hands upon his skin, and he drew in a sharp breath as her fingers brushed through the hair upon his chest. 

She knew that hair was important to dwarves, remembering his reaction to her touching his beards back in the Barrow Downs. How appalled he had seemed by her actions. If touching a dwarf's beard was so forbidden, what of touching a dwarf's chest hair? Was it just as scandalous? Or was it even more forbidden? Was such a sight exclusive to a dwarf's lover? Her face burned with such thoughts, and she felt her pulse thump against her throat. It was only natural, she reasoned with herself, to have grown close to him. They had journey so far together, have fought together, so perhaps this feeling was merely…kinship. But something in her heart told her that it was not so, and she was uncertain of what to do with that. Such things were beyond her realm of understanding. As a child to womanhood, she had grown amongst elves who seemed untouchable in their beauty and grace. When she traveled the cities of men, she had been found as strange and therefore avoided unless necessary. She had never craved another's touch, or wished to feel another's lips upon hers in the way that she craved Thorin's. 

Elizabeth tried to swallow down the rush of emotions, to avoid acknowledging it because she felt if she acknowledged them then she would lose a piece of herself that she could never get back. She sat her knees facing him, so close and so intimately in the way that only a lover would. "You have a healer's touch," Thorin remarked, keenly aware of her fingers upon his flesh. The way she drew the salve across his skin so tenderly yet it left a fiery brand of intent in its wake. "Hands that can so easily cut down enemies can be made to heal as well. Did the elves teach you that?" He asked, a dry note of amusement in his voice. He watched her work diligently, her eyes never once wavering from the wound and her brows furrowed in concentration. 

"Did my ears just deceive me or did Thorin Oakenshield just say the word elves without a tone of derision in his voice?" Elizabeth felt a teasing smirk curve her lips. 

"A lapse, I assure you," Thorin was quick to say. 

"Of course," Elizabeth allowed, her shoulder shaking with light laughter. The laughter soon died for it was so hard to keep such levity when she brushed the salve over his wounds. They were red and angry and discolored even with the aid of Gandalf's magic. 

"A burden shared is a burden halved," Thorin said, quietly. The tip of his finger brushing against the worry upon her brow, and Elizabeth drew back slightly, startled by the contact. "Your smile…was fleeting. Now a shadow has fallen across you face. It is clear your thoughts trouble you." 

Elizabeth looked up at him, and she searched his face for several silent moments. There were so many worries upon her mind that she had trouble sorting them all out inside of her head. She bowed her head slightly, coating her fingers in more salve. She drew it across a wound his chest carefully and deliberately. She put more focus and attention into the motion than necessary. A fact that did not escape Thorin's notice. 

"Is it the journey that worries you?" Thorin inquired, with a brow arched. His hands clenched together to resist the inane urge to trace the delicate hollow of her exposed neck. "Or does the encounter with the Pale Orc still haunt you?" It still haunted him, though he did his best not to let it show. 

"The Pale Orc always haunts me," Elizabeth said, with a rueful look in her eyes. 

Thorin frowned, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly. Strands of his hair shifted, and fell into his face as he considered the woman in front of him carefully. He reached up, his fingers brushed her chin in a silent order to look at him. As Elizabeth's gaze flickered up to him, he stared down at her with an indecipherable look on his face. "You've faced the Pale Orc before," he stated, his voice low and grave. 

Elizabeth froze, half startled by the astute observation. After a long moment, she released a heavy sigh and allowed her shoulders slump a fraction. She tilted her head away from his gentle touch, and her eyes flickered away from his for a moment. "Never like that. Never in a battle," she told him, quietly. 

"But you've faced him before then," Thorin narrowed his eyes scrutinizing her. 

"It is…not something I speak of. It is not something I like to recall," Elizabeth said, softly. It was so strange. He seemed so much like stone that when she touched his skin, she was startled by how it felt. Solid, strong, and alive. "I've tried to forget it all together. To try and erase it because I didn't want to remember." 

Silence fell between them. The only noise was their mingled breaths as Elizabeth moved her hands across his broad shoulder carefully. She was so close to him that she could feel the heat rolling off of him, and her eyes flickered up towards his face. "When I was eight, I had these stupid thoughts inside my head. I thought I would be a legend, I thought I would be an adventurer, I thought I would see the entire world and be back in time for dinner. The stupid, impossible things that all kids dream of." 

Her voice was soft, so haunted, and trembled with an untold amount of pain. Thorin craned his head and looked down at her, his gaze fixated upon hers. Her expression was shuttered, and her eyes were unreadable. There was nothing endearing about the way she held herself now, there was nothing innocent or sweet. There was a darkness, a deep seeded ache within her gaze that seemed to vibrate out making the air thick with tension and pain. Thorin realized that he had uncovered a wound she had fought to conceal. The type of wound that did not heal, but one that festered deep within the soul. He was intimately familiar with such wounds, carrying quite a few of his own. 

"One day I went out playing in the woods, pretending I was fighting trolls ironically enough," she continued, her lips quirking into a smile that held no true trace of happiness. "You see, I thought I knew the woods so well, I played in them for so long, but that day I found that I didn't know them as well as I thought. 

"And I got lost," Elizabeth let out a low self-deprecating laugh. "I got hurt and got myself lost and couldn't find my way home. I tried…I tried finding my way back, hoping that maybe that my family would be out looking for me. Maybe they would find me…" The laugh faded, and Elizabeth blinked hard, drawing in a sharp breath. "They didn't find me…something else did." 

"Azog," Thorin rumbled out. 

Her gaze looked at him, her expression softened ever so slightly and she swallowed hard. "Yes," she stated, thickly. 

Thorin sharply inhaled, and there were so many emotions that flickered through his gaze. Horror, sympathy, but most of all understanding. 

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to compose the rush of feeling that cascaded through her. No matter how many years had past, she could still recall the helplessness she felt then. "I didn't know monsters really existed. My…home was rather sheltered, and dwarves, elves, monsters were just myths. Fantasy. Not real. They only existed in books…but that day I found out that real life doesn't end up like a happy ending. That the heroine never got to see her home again, never got to see her family ever again and that day she found out how real monsters really were." 

Her breaths were sharp, uneven gasps that shook her entire body. Her face was ashen with pain, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. There was a bitter kind of sorrow in her smile that sent the man who would be King Under the Mountain, a horrible haunting look that pierced straight through him. Thorin gave into the impulse to touch her, entwining his hand into hers. 

"Oh, Thorin," her voice was a gasp of despair as her thumb brushed over his bruised knuckles. The image of him lying there helpless on the ground was one that was not so easily erased from her mind, and it kept replaying over and over until her heart felt sick. "What were you thinking?" Her eyes glanced up to his, and her expression was so sad. "Were you so eager for the glory of battle that you forgot the value of your own life? This quest, all the we have done would mean nothing if you were to perish." 

"Dwarves are not so easily broken," Thorin stated, his voice light. Her hand clung to his so desperately like an anchor, and he wished to some erase the despair from her eyes. 

"It does not mean you're invulnerable," Elizabeth said, her lips twisted downward. "I was so terrified when I saw you charge the Pale Orc. When you fell to the ground, I thought you were dead…" 

"But I live," Thorin stated. "Just as you. We have been granted with another day so that we may live to carry on this quest." 

"You make it so sound simple," she whispered out, tilting her head towards him. Her nose brushed the tip of his nose, and she felt his breath spread across her face gently. Some flared within Thorin's eyes, a look that made her tremble, but before she had even the chance to figure it out the spell was broken by Oin crashing through the trees with a loud curse. "Curse these branches," he groused, with distaste. "I have the bandages." 

Elizabeth pulled back quickly, a faint flush dusting her cheeks as she avoided both Thorin and Oin's gaze. "I need you to stand behind his majesty here and keep his hair out of the way, would you lass?" Oin ordered, with a wave of his hand. 

Her head jerked upward, her entire body went still from head to toe and her eyes went wide. She looked from Oin to Thorin several times, while Thorin quirked up an eyebrow at the healer. His lips were formed into an impassive line, and his brows were knotted together. 

Elizabeth waited for a protest to fall from Thorin's lips, but when none came, her eyes darted across his face. He stood there silent with an enigmatic expression, and after several heartbeats, she rose slowly to her feet. She stumbled over some rocks slightly before she came to stand behind Thorin. After taking a deep breath, she allowed her fingers ghosted across his neck and jaw as she gathered Thorin's hair together. There was a type of coarseness to the strands of his hair, and the sensation of it against the palm of her hand made a slight shiver rush down her spine. She drew in a slow breath in order to steady her heart that fluttered in her chest. It was thankfully nighttime because the shadows hid the two red spots burning on her cheeks. 

As Oin went about securing the bandages, Elizabeth secretly relished in the warmth of Thorin's skin. He was heated like a forge, and she barely kept herself from touching it. She had never thought of touch much, but with Thorin, it was an almost constant urge. A pang of longing that grew with intensity each passing day, and she at a loss at what to do. 

"There," Oin sighed, relieved. He checked the bandages to make sure they were on secure, and pulled back with a satisfied with his work. "More ointment will need to applied tomorrow morn." 

Thorin inclined his head in thanks. Oin nodded back briskly, and walked away leaving the pair of them alone again. 

Elizabeth stood there for several seconds, before she let the strands of his hair fall from her fingers and she moved to the side so he could lean back comfortably. There a moment of uncertainty before she took a seat upon the ground beside him, leaving only a few inches between them. She rested her head back against the boulder, and she felt the exhaustion she had been fighting off start to seep in. The last two days had pushed them all in ways that she hadn't expected. Most of those ways more painfully than the last, but everyone was alright. In the end, that’s all that mattered. She tilted her head slightly, and looked at Thorin who stared out into the inky distance. She wondered idly what he was thinking about. 

Thorin slanted a glance at Elizabeth, who sat languidly against the back of the rock with her hands aimlessly in her lap. Fatigue settled upon her pale face, and her eyes long thick eyelashes fluttered tiredly. "You should get some sleep," he told her, his voice rough and quiet. She felt comfortably warm beside him, small and delicate in ways he was not. 

"So should you," she murmured, tiredly. Her hair hung down in wanton abandon, the gleaming curls freed from their usual binds, still damp from her bath. His fists clenched against the need to run his fingers through the silky strands, to cup her head in his hands gently. Her full lips were parted with deep breaths as all the tension slipped from her limbs. Her delicate throat was exposed all the way down to her collar bone, the loose fitting tunic outlined the valley of her breasts. 

He gave into the impulse to touch her, but only allowed his fingers grazed her arm, the tunic a thin barrier from her skin. It was an innocent touch, a brief comfort, he thought, instead all it did was send a tremor of tension through his body. He could feel himself growing attached to her in ways he could have never anticipated. He let his hand trail up her arm and along her shoulder, he traced the bruises covering her neck. Even Gandalf’s magic could not erase Azog’s dark deed. He forced himself to choke back the anger that he felt and his fingers slid through the strands of her hair around the nape of her neck. 

Elizabeth gave no protest, just sighed sleepily. She relaxed, a tiny, endearing snore escaped before her breath became long and even. Sleep had taken her away from the world of the living for now. Her hair was soft, like strands of sleek upon his fingertips and he was enthralled by all the colors, the sleek coppers to the gentle shades of red to the hidden strands of tawny gold that only revealed themselves in the firelight. 

A soft smile found it's way upon his lips, only to be stolen away a moment later when his fingers brushed across a braid. A flare of shock and disbelief lashed through him as hot as dragon fire when he found a bead at the end of the hidden braid. Suspicion threatened to roll over him, and take every ounce of reason with it. His finger pressed so hard against the rune, a symbol for the Durin Line, that Elizabeth winced in her sleep. A trace of guilt flickered across his face, and he pulled his hand back. He bit it back his notions harshly as he stared down at her peacefully face with a deep frown. 

"What are you hiding from me?" His voice barely more than a whisper. 

Elizabeth gave no reply, just kept on sleeping. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To avoid someone plagarizing my works, since it would be easy to take stuff from the chapters that I have posted on ffnet, but yet to have posted on here, I've decided to get Made of Stone on AO3 up to date with my one on ffnet. Hope you all enjoy the six more chapters that are to come! :D


	21. A Bear, There Was A Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT! GLAD YOU ALL LIKE THE FIC! :D I didn't have a song that really inspired this fic, but if you have one you'd like to recommend, let me know. :D  
> Thank you Sayomi_Night, 0102and03, LRazz, love112love, Direhart, alien94, Ayyyeee, GrammarGrrrl, Catann, moon_goddess_118, sweetsgal, Dusk_Lilly, earedien, kalin128, annievogel90, greasergirlalex, Starkid_Impala015, Just4Me, mehg11, EbonyLeijon, edelweissmaia, DanteOphydian, RegalMagnus, fairykia, Elashor_Seger, Dances_With_Vulcans, candy_hearts, i11iad, AgentLilyAEvans, and hwinde and the 66 guests that left kudos! :D  
> Thank you, Lmd_dk, PhoenixFire0427, AloraKast, mdowney3, Catann, Avendia, Rosethebookwurm, Aryannaoakenshield, idrilcelebrindal, Dusk_Lilly, Starkid_Impala015, AgentLilyAEvans, candy_hearts, i11iad for the bookmarks!

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 

"A Bear, There Was A Bear"

* * *

It was the sound of birds that awoke her. 

Gently chirping from nearby, she became aware of a warmth that was around her. A feeling of complete ease and contentment. She felt as light as feather as she gave a soft groan, lifting her arms above her head to stretch the lethargy out of her limbs. Her eyelashes fluttered wildly until her eyes adjusted to the breaking dawn, and sat up only to have Thorin's thick fur coat slip off of her. Elizabeth stared at it with an expression of bemusement, the cover of her mouth lifting in a small smile as she reached out to run her fingers across it. 

It smelt like him. Sharp, strong like the pines upon the mountain side mixed with a hint of granite. Pure and masculine just like Thorin. It hadn't been covering her when she had fallen asleep. So that meant someone had draped it over her. A shadow fell across her, and she glanced up to see Thorin standing there over her. 

There was a heavy knot in his brow, and his mouth was pressed into a thin severe line. His eyes were not harsh, but held a remote scrutiny there in them. "You grew cold during the night," Thorin gave the simple explanation. He knelt down back on his heels so that he was on eye level with her. He was just so very close to her, standing barely a foot away and his eyes burning a cold fire deep in the pit of her stomach. 

"Oh." Elizabeth murmured, softly. A rush of pleasure ran through her at the thoughtfulness he displayed, for he was not one to do such things idly. "That was very kind of you. Thank you." Thorin inclined his head in silent acceptance. 

Elizabeth's smile slipped ever so slightly. There was such an intense contemplation on Thorin's face that she could barely tolerate being beneath such a look yet she couldn't find it in herself to turn away. This urge to touch no longer came as a surprise to Elizabeth. She couldn't exactly recall when she first felt this urge, only that it had grown stronger the longer the journey went on. Having to help Oin with Thorin’s wounds yesterday only inflamed the need, and the compulsion brewed in her fingertips, a tingle sensation, but she did not act on it. 

The very thought of it caused embarrassment flare up inside, and her cheeks went red when she realized that she had missed something Thorin had said. "Pardon?" She asked, after clearing her throat. 

"You were rollin' in heather," Thorin commented, his tone suspicious light. His hand was so close to hers, just a hair away and his thumb brushed lightly across her knuckles. So soft and fleeting that touch was, but it was one that Elizabeth was deeply aware of. 

"I don't understand," Elizabeth said, a hint of a confused frown on her face. Her head tilted to the side ever so slightly, strands on her hair sliding down into her face. 

"Hmm. It means you inner thoughts overcame you," Thorin spoke, his words were light but whispered deeply. He stared at her with an indescribable look, an emotion flickered in and out of his eyes before she had a hard time to understand them. 

Elizabeth gave a light laugh. "They often do," she said, fiddling with the coat absentmindedly. "What of your wounds? Have you allowed Oin to assess them this morn?" 

His eyes stared into hers, intently and accessing. Whatever he saw behind those unnatural shades, a split second he relaxed a fraction. She saw a slight softening around his eyes, and yet she could not help the feeling that there was a wall between them. Before Thorin had a chance to reply, Gandalf's voice reached them. "It is best that we depart. The Pale Orc does not give up his hunt so easily, and I suggest we stay far from his grasp," the wizard stated, loudly. 

Thorin cleared his throat, and rose to his feet. "And where shall we go, wizard?" He demanded, as Gandalf stepped through the trees. "There is a great distance still left between us and the Elf King's dominion. Wargs easily outmatch the Company on foot, they will be upon us before we reached the edge of the forest." 

"True, true, and yet it is not," the wizard stated. 

Thorin gave the wizard a sour glance. "I have not time nor the patience for your twisted riddles, Gandalf," Thorin told him, darkly. "Speak plainly." 

"If you wish," Gandalf twisted his staff between his surprisingly nimble fingers. "There is a house, it's not far from here, where we might take refuge." 

"A house?" Elizabeth rose up, Thorin's coat clutched tightly in her grasp. "All the way out here? Who would live in such solitude and isolation?" 

"More importantly, are they friend or foe?" Thorin asked, his voice curt and rough. 

"Neither," Gandalf divulged on a sigh. "He will help us…or he will kill us." 

Elizabeth's eyes widened, while Thorin looked grumpily dismayed at the news. The dwarf king ran a hand down his jaw in an aggravated gesture. "What choice do we have?" He asked, though he knew there was none. 

"None," Gandalf confirmed. "Now be on your feet! We have much ground to travel, and time tilts not in our favor!" 

* * *

Dark clouds rolled in looming over head, and the thunder constantly threatened rain that did not fall. They marched through the forest undeterred, the thought of Azog spurring them onward. The Company had to put complete faith in Gandalf, and Thorin hoped that it was not a folly to do so. He only hoped that whomever Gandalf led them to would spare them their lives and shelter. When the cloud finally started to part, they were given only a moment of reprieve to pass out what merger scraps that they had left and refill their waterskins. 

Thorin eyed their surroundings warily. His ears strained for the chilling sound of a warg's howl, but no such sound came. Yet he could not allow himself to calm in the slightest, his thoughts were too many and weighed heavily. Unable to stop himself, his blue eyes flickered up towards Elizabeth. Her slender fingers smoothed her hair back behind her ears, she tried to look as thought nothing was amiss, but he knew better. There was a skittish wild gleam in her strange eyes like an animal being cornered, and he knew that she, too, waited for the howls. 

"Did you just say something?" Thorin frowned at Dwalin, who stood at his side. 

"Nay, you haven't given him such a chance," Balin stated, with a light frown on his face as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. There had been something off about Thorin's foreboding demeanor, and for the life of him he couldn't place it. 

His eyes narrowed as he studied his trusted friend; then he let out a deep sigh. "My apologies. I have been…lost within in my thoughts," Thorin grumbled out. 

"I've noticed," Dwalin had a light smirk on his face. "What are you ingrates up to?" He shot a look at Fili and Kili who stood there, brushing themselves off after wrestling upon the ground after Fili insulted Kili's bow skill, and Kili insulted Fili's beard. It was all in good fun, of course, so no one bothered to stop them. 

"Ingrates?" Fili said, indignantly. 

"Dwalin," Kili placed a hand dramatically over his chest. "I never knew that you had such a high opinion of us." 

"Truly it doth warm our hearts to know what you think of us," Fili gave him a big smirk. 

"You little shits," Dwalin growled at them. 

"Enough," Thorin pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"What's wrong, uncle?" Kili blinked. "We were only having good fun." 

"It is your thoughts bugging ye again?" Dwalin slid a sideways glance over at Thorin, a deep frown upon his lips. "Is the lass? Did something happen last night that we weren't aware of?" 

There was roguish tilt to Dwalin's lips, but his eyes were flat and serious. 

Thorin stood there for a long moment in stubborn silence before inclined his head just a fraction. "A dwarven bead is weaved into her hair. One bearing the symbol of the Durin Line. I discovered it hidden beneath her hair last night when she fell asleep beside me," Thorin confided, his voice low and quiet. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, that she allowed herself to fall asleep, an act of unconditional trust to dwarves and yet it was obvious she held secrets. Secrets that were like ice in Thorin's blood, and his hands clenched into iron fists. 

"A bead of the Durin Line? If not your own, then whose? Unless one of the lads…?" Dwalin glanced at them. 

"No!" Fili took a step back eyes wide. 

"Absolutely not!" Kili was flustered by the implication, his cheeks burning red. "Elizabeth is a bonnie lass," he swallowed harshly when his uncle sent him a cutting look, "but I feel nothing more for than I would a _namad_." 

"It was not a braid of intent," Thorin stated, gruffly. He looked down the hill where the other gathered and waited patiently. With little caution, Elizabeth picked her way over the scattered roots and mounds of thistle dotting the meadow. She picked several Niphredil flowers, the white flowers shimmered as the stars do and were used in several types of medicine. When he traced the braid, it had been a simply braid with little to no significance and he could not deny a twinge of relief that rushed through. However, it was overwhelmed by the burning turmoil. "And the bead was not one of ours. It was my…father's." 

"What?" Balin nearly squawked. 

"Are you certain?" Dwalin inquired, grimly. 

"I am. It was one I created for my father." Thorin knew everything he crafted. There was a mark that all dwarves left upon the things they craft with their hands, a mark that only the crafter could recognize. It was his earlier craft, carved out of silver and adorned with small sapphires. When he was young, eager to discover all aspects of blacksmithing. His determination was only spurred on by the nobles who looked upon blacksmithing with scorn, his grandfather amongst them. "The forge was no place for a king," his grandfather had said, but the forge called to Thorin with the haunting tune of a siren. It was a call he could not ignore, and he threw himself into the work. 

"How did Elizabeth come by it?" Fili asked, bewildered. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly on the woman. 

"That's what I intend to find out." 

* * *

"What could have made tracks like that?" Bilbo asked. 

Elizabeth placed her hand beside the large paw print, measuring the size of it. It was at the very least, three times the size of her hand. "It's not a warg," she stated, with a light frown upon her face. 

"Thank heavens for that," the hobbit sighed. 

Elizabeth flashed him a wry grin before she wiped her hand clean on her cloak. Her eyes fell back to the ground, and the large print there. "I would say it is a bear's, but it larger than any bear that I have ever encounter in my life. I think it is best if we keep moving. I would not wish this beast to catch us," she stated, very seriously. 

"As if we needed more to worry about with orcs running amok," Bilbo grumbled, running a hand through his curly hair. He scuffed his hairy feet against the grassy ground nervously. 

"Mhmm," Elizabeth made a noise of agreement. She raised her gaze upward, and found Thorin standing a short distance away. As Thorin stood among his fellow dwarves, there was no uncertainty that he was the leader. He was regarded by all as a dwarf of great force of character, of power in many ways. He did not have to struggle with their respects like Bilbo, Gandalf and herself did. The knowledge of this was not lost to Thorin, and he always held himself to a higher standard in light of such unwavering loyalty. It was a sight to behold, the grand quietness in which he spoke and the stately way he held himself. "Can you ask Thorin to come here? I wish to show him the tracks, and see how he would like to proceed." 

"Alright," Bilbo said, after a brief moment of hesitation. He didn't want to second guess his new found place amongst the dwarves, nor the respect he had earned from Thorin, but that didn't mean he was so eager to speak to the Company's leader. He pushed past his fears and marched over towards them. "Uh…Thorin," he held back a wince, and let out a breath when no reproach came from using his name in such familiar terms. They were brothers in a sense now after all? "Elizabeth has something you need to see." 

Thorin's expression shifted barely. His eyebrow lifted a hair, but the severity of his expression was something that did not change. His face was one made of stone, and he inclined his head towards Bilbo. "Thank you, Mast…Bilbo," he corrected, after a moment. "I shall go to her now." 

Bilbo watched Thorin walked over, and turned back towards the others with a deep frown his face. "Is something wrong that I should know about?" No one said a word. 

Thorin trekked down the hill to where Elizabeth stood, her back facing him and he could make the outline of tension in her spine. She twirled her mithril bow in her hands, a nervous tick and he frowned as he came to stand at her side. "You wished to speak to me," the words rolled off Thorin's tongue in such a way that causes a flare of heat to rush through Elizabeth while at the same time a hint of apprehension flooded through her as well. 

"Bear tracks," Elizabeth pointed them out. 

"A very large bear," Thorin noted, his eyes traced the tracks. 

"Yes. We must have narrowly missed it," she commented, glancing over her shoulder as if she had expected the bear to burst forth from the trees at any given moment. "We should count our lucky stars, I suppose." 

"We are not out of the woods yet." Thorin grumbled, the lines around his eyes more pronounced as he worked his jaw. He studied her out of the corner of his eye for several moments. "Is this all you wished to speak about?" 

Her brows lifted, and she looked at him with thinly veiled bewilderment. She shifted back to face him better, and there was a clear question in her eyes as she searched his face. "I cannot think of anything else that springs to mind," she commented, with a slight frown. Concern marred her expression, the longer she gazed upon him. "What is the matter? Has something happened? Is it your wounds?" She reached for his face without thought. 

Thorin's eyes widened ever so slightly and his hand shot up to grab her wrist; none too gently at all. Elizabeth stared at him, a deep red stain appeared upon her cheeks when she realized that she came oh, so close to touching his beard. "What are you doing?" Thorin's voice was thick and raspy. His heavy brows thrown together in confusion as he stared at her. 

"I…I just…" She felt like a embarrassed child caught with her hand in the sweets jar. It had not been an intentional gesture, her hand moved with a mind of its own yet she did not know how to explain that to him. She cleared her throat lightly, "You appear to be a bit flushed with fever. Are you wounds ailing you? Should I get Oin?" Her voice was laced with worry. 

"Nay," Thorin shook his head a fraction, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. His wounds ached and burned, but he refused to fall to them now. There was still much ground to cover, and the daylight was wearing thin. He felt her pulse race beneath his palm, and he searched her face. 

"You have a dwarves bead in your hair," Thorin said, his voice was flat. He was never a dwarf for diplomacy or tact, taking the same approach to conversations as he did in battle. Blunt and brutal. His expression gave away nothing of his inner thoughts nor the turmoil he had experienced over his discovery last night. 

At first confusion filled up those unnatural eyes, the many colors bright and vibrant. "Bead in my…" Elizabeth trailed off, the realization hit her with all the force of an angry warg. His hand tightened on her wrist, when she went to take a step away from him. His head bent slightly to her, so his face filled her entire vision, and she couldn't avoid his gaze. A tremble of alarm went through her, his eyes trying to unravel the secrets that laid within hers. Her free hand twisted into tight fist at her side, and she drew in a shaky breath. "How?" She croaked out, a faint tremor in her voice. She was at a complete loss at what to do, so taken aback in this moment. 

_Frerin…Dis…Thorin_ , the words raced through her mind whispered in Charlie's rough and haggard voice. How could she have forgotten? She wondered, her stomach churned violently. It was not as if she had intended on keeping it a secret, quite the opposite in fact. The memory she had recalled while in the depths of that cavern lingered in the back of her mind. However, with the events following the escape of those caverns, Azog and near death, it had slipped from her thoughts. 

"Should it not be I who asks that of you?" Thorin rumbled, taking a step towards her. He slid his gaze downward, and his eyes were piercing. "It is after all my father's bead that is braided into your hair." 

The way the pallor suddenly left her face and the bruised darkness of her eyes caught Thorin completely off guard. She was looking at him as though he had tried to destroy her. Looking at him and yet somehow past him at the same time. 

Elizabeth let out a sharp breath, as if he had just shoved a blade into her chest and she pulled her hand free from his gasp. A tormented anguish rose in her chest without mercy, and she took another step back bracing her hand against the tree. It was a desperate feeling that clawed at her when she looked away from him as if she would find some spare words upon the ground. She felt at a completely loss when a large roar echoed through the forest, causing her hear to shoot up. 

The line of shoulder Thorin's shoulders tensed. His head shot up, and his blue eyes scanned the surrounding trees. There was too much greenery about for enemies to hide in, and he drew out his blade. "Let's move! Now!" 

* * *

The company sought shelter within an alcove of large rocks as the sunset painted purplish hues upon the land. Not soon after the large roar did the howls of wargs fall upon them. They had raced across the forest, using the shelter of trees to protect themselves. But soon the trees thinned out, and the plains were bare. They had to move quickly and swiftly, but finally had come across the rocks. "Master Baggins," Thorin addressed him, his hoarse with exertion. "I fear the time has once again came to test your mettle." 

Bilbo swallowed, trepidation flared beneath his breast. "What would have me do?" The hobbit asked, keeping his voice low and quiet half afraid that the orcs could hear them somehow. 

"Climb atop these rocks. Be our eyes," Thorin bid him. "See what is out there, and how close it is on our heels." 

Bilbo drew in a breath, straightening his spine. He gave a firm nod, and after a encourage clap on the shoulder from Elizabeth, he made his way up the rocks. He moved slowly, grasping at hand holds and footholds. He couldn't afford to slip, a fall would bring too much attention and an injured hobbit would hinder the company worse than it already was. He let out a shaky breath, concentrating on his hands and feet instead of the growing distance between him and the ground. After what seemed like forever, he finally reached the top and he pressed his forehead against the cool rock. 

He took this moment to steel his resolve before he peered over the top of the rock. His heart leaped into his throat when he saw orcs upon their wargs crawling along the cliff on the other side of the valley. Their hoots and shouts chilling him to the bone, and he ducked his head when he seen the Pale Orc glance his way. He held his breath in his throat, his fingers gripped into the stone painfully. He risked another glance, and saw the orc pack ride away. He almost sighed in relief, but then he saw what they were running. _Oh, dear._

Biting the inside of his cheek, Bilbo scurried down the rocks as he slid down the smooth incline, landing on his feet in front of Elizabeth. She caught him before he could flying forward, and helped steady him on his feet. "Easy," she whispered out, and Bilbo nodded lightly. 

"How close is the pack?" Dwalin asked, gruffly. 

"Too close. A couple of leagues, no more, but that is not the worst of it," Bilbo breathed out heavily. 

"Have the Warg picked up our scent?" Elizabeth inquired. 

"Not yet, but they will. We have another problem," the hobbit looked up at her, his forehead creased with worry. "You remember those bear tracks we saw? It was chasing the orcs away. Elizabeth, those tracks did it no justice. You would not believe the size of that beast." 

"It would be best to avoid it," Gandalf stated. 

"What shall we do?" Gloin asked. 

"I say we double back," Bofur suggested. 

Thorin gave a sharp shake of his head. "We double back we risk of being run down by a pack of Orcs. There is no turning back now," he stated, . "We must pressed forward." 

"But what about the beast?" Balin asked. 

Thorin looked at him. "It won't be the first beast we've faces, and it shan't be the last. We press forward come what may." 

* * *

Elizabeth leapt across the stream, her feet carrying her as fast as they could. The wind rushed past her sending her hair flying behind her as she kept one hand behind Bilbo's back, making certain that the hobbit would not fall behind while she sent a glance over her shoulder. _Thirteen dwarves, one hobbit and a wizard. Good. Good. No one can fall behind! No one!_ Her heart was jammed up in her throat as her eyes darted behind the Company to the treeline. An ear-splitting roar echoed through the valley, and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. 

"Come on!" Gandalf shouted. "This way, quickly!" 

The dwarves ran for their lives, not knowing which enemy was upon their trail. The orcs or the bear? If Elizabeth had to choose, she would choose the bear for at least it would be merciful in killing them, if that was to be their fate. Azog…he knew nothing of the word mercy. He would laugh at any pleas, and relish in their pain all the more. Her stomach turned at the thought, and she pressed insistently on the hobbit's back, urging him to hurry onward. 

"There! Look!" Kili pointed with a shout. 

There was a house in the distance, surrounded by a hedge in the middle of the plains. Elizabeth heart jolted, remembering Gandalf's words from earlier. Were they trading one danger for another? Did it truly matter? In this moment, it did not. Her feet pushed her onward for like Thorin had say, it was too late to go back now. "To the house?" She called out. 

"To the house!" Gandalf gave a sharp nod. "Run!" 

Bombur outran all the rest of them in his fear, and leads them through a gate in the hedge. He had such momentum going that he slammed into the door, but it is solid and sealed shut. The rest of the dwarves caught up and being to the throw themselves against the door, trying to open it. Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder just in time to see a massive bear break out from the edge of the forest and run towards them at full speed. Even from so far away she can see the gleam of razor sharp teeth, and breathed out, "Thorin!" 

Thorin shot her a glance, and then looked past her to see the impending danger. "Open the door! Quickly!" He barked out, shoving himself through the sea of dwarves trying to break the door open. Gritting his teeth together, he lifted the exterior bold, opening the doors. The entire company bolts inside the house, and Elizabeth shoved in Bilbo before her. 

"Shut the doors!" She called out, practically feeling the thunderous pounding of the bear's feet upon the ground behind her. She turned as the dwarves went to close the doors, only to reel back with a barely held back scream as the bear attempt to shove its head through the door. Bilbo pulled out his sword, and pointed it unsteadily at the bear while the dwarves all yell, straining to close the door against the vicious bear. 

"Come on, lads!" Dwalin roared. 

With a final heave, the dwarves managed to close the door and drop the bolt across. A collective sigh, one of shock, fear and tiredness, went through everyone. Elizabeth pressed a shaky palm to her forehead, closing her eyes for a brief moment before she swallowed thickly and pulled them back open. Her eyes unconsciously flickered towards Thorin who stood beside her, and her lips parted as if she had words to say. 

But she had nothing. The words they exchanged were not forgotten, and they were like a icy weight in the pit of her stomach. In that heartbeat, they both stood motionless as statues with the crackle of tension between them. Icy blue eyes swept over her, searching her in much the same way that she did him. Thorin stared at her, his expression reserved and it made something twist violently in her gut. Letting out a breath, she turned away from and walked over to Bilbo. "You alright, Bilbo?" Elizabeth asked, clapping him on the shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. 

"That was more of a close call than I would have liked," Bilbo stated, when he finally found the words. 

"For us all, Master Baggins," Balin gave a relieved chuckle. "For us all. Well, it does not appear to the most luxurious of accommodations, but it has a roof." 

"And walls," Kili added, helpfully. 

"And walls," Balin nodded. 

"What _was_ that?" Ori asked, still terrified over the bear. "Are bears supposed to even get that big?" 

"That was no ordinary bear, Master Ori," Gandalf stated, with an amused smile. "That…is our host." When everyone turned to him with bewildered stares, the wizard added, "His name is Beorn, and he is a skin-changer." 

"Skin changer?" Elizabeth said, a tad alarmed. 

Gandalf gave a mute sigh, and arched a brow in her direction. 

Pink dusted her cheeks, and she gave a nervous fidget feeling much like a child under that look. "Like…the ones from the tales Elladan and Elorhir used to tell me about?" She whispered out. 

"Oh, for Eru's sake! Have some sense, Elizabeth and dispel any tale those two fools told you from your mind! I doubt any of them held a trace of truth!" The wizard said, exasperated. He twirled his staff in a manner as if he were half tempted to bop her on the head with the end of it. "Now back to our host…where was I? Ah, yes. Sometimes he's a huge black bear, sometimes he's a great strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reason with. However, he is not overly fond of…dwarves." 

The dwarves looked at each other in dismay. Kili frowned confused, looking towards Fili whose eyebrows shot upward. Thorin just ground his teeth together, his sword still clasped tightly in his hand. Ori leaned up on his tippy toes and peeked out through a crack in the door. "He's leaving!" 

Dori's head shot towards his brother, and he grabbed Ori by the back of his jacket. "Come away from there! It's not natural, none of it. It's obvious: he's under some dark spell," the mother hen of a dwarf hissed, worriedly. 

Gandalf bit back a sigh of exasperation. "Don't be a fool; he's under no enchantment but his own. Alright now, get some sleep, all of you. You'll be safe here tonight." As the dwarves started to spread out through the house, Gandalf added in a whisper, "I hope." 

Elizabeth shot him a look, and the wizard smiled innocently. 

* * *

The dwarves stayed in the loft, near the door instead of spreading out around the house more. It would not be wise to upset their unwitting host with their position so precarious, so they formed beds made of hay upon the stone floor. Fire crackled from the great fire place while they took a little of the rations in the storage, it was a better supper than they had in days. Elizabeth glanced out of the corner of her eye at Oin who spoke with Thorin in hushed tones, not able to truly disguise her worry as Bilbo scribbled on a scrap of parchment that Ori spared him. 

"Busy revising your will?" Elizabeth asked. 

"That's not funny," Bilbo said, distractedly. 

"Come on, it's a little bit funny." She watched him shake his head lightly and the hobbit fought a smile. After a few minutes, she shifted to face him and arched a brow. "What are you writing?" 

"Don't you have better things to be doing than to pester me over my writing?" Bilbo demanded, his cheeks flushing a little bit. "Like make eyes at Thorin?" 

Elizabeth startled, her eyes widening. She stared at Bilbo for a long second before she shook her head. "I don't make eyes," Elizabeth huffed out. 

Bilbo gave her a deadpanned look. 

"I _don't_ ," Elizabeth denied, her cheeks turning a slight red. "My eyes have nothing to do with Thorin. I was just looking around and they happened to land on him, nothing more." "Aha! So you admit that you have eyes and they are on Thorin," the hobbit pointed at her with a triumphant smirk on his face. 

Elizabeth just narrowed her eyes on him, while biting back a smile. "What are you writing?" She asked, not even bothering to pretend she wasn't changing the subject. If anything Bilbo looked even more amused. The hobbit handed her over the piece of paper, and Elizabeth blinked. The words were slightly blotted, but for being written on his knees, Bilbo's handwriting was still quite elegant. 

_Dear Ivy,_

_I do not know if this shall ever reach you, or if you shall ever look upon it. Yet these words I cannot contain within my heart. It strange to think, that it has been months since I have departed from Bree. I have seen so many things…I have faced trolls, seen Rivendell-oh, Rivendell, you should see it one day Ivy. My mother's stories barely done it justice. There have been giants made out of stone, fierce and frightening as the terrible storms of summer. I have battled orcs, Ivy. Orcs! I never thought I would never have to face them again since the fell winter. Despite these odds, the Company remained entirely in tact…yet I can not find conviction in my heart to believe it will always be so. I miss you, Ivy. I have missed you all these years like the sun misses the flower, and our brief meeting in Bree has only made that ache grow. Hope guides me, that is what gets me through the day and the night. The hope that after you're gone from my sight, it will not be the last time that I look upon you._

_However, a promise of that is not one I can make. There is still a long road ahead on this journey, and I know not what may come. I know not if I will make it back to the Shire, or to Bree, to start a life with you. If Yavanna finds it in her heart to spare me, and allow me to return to you, then I will gladly praise her the rest of my days. If not…I would leave Bag End to you. It was the place where I saw our future, and I know no better hands than yours to leave it in. I understand if this is a request that you cannot uphold for the memories of the Shire still haunt you. If that is so, I would see that you leave Bag End to Primula and Drogo._

_Yours Forever,_

_Bilbo_

"This is for Ivy?" Elizabeth handed him back the paper. 

"Yes." Bilbo tucked into the pocket of his waist coat, and sighed. Fiddling with the remaining buttons of his coat, he looked around at all the dwarves busy eating on their supper of honey and bread. Bilbo had eaten his plate clean, and he didn't dare eat anymore lest he upset his stomach. "I've been thinking more and more about her the closer we grow to the mountains. I know that I might not come out of facing this dragon, and I…I don't want to leave her with nothing." 

"You're leaving her Bag End?" Elizabeth asked. 

"I am. I want…I want someone who really cherish it to have it if I don't make it back from this journey. I know that Ivy will," Bilbo said, softly. The last few days had brought forth those of his own mortality and the odds that stood against him. He wanted to be prepared for the worst, though he prayed to Yavanna that it would not come. 

Compassion and understanding filled Elizabeth's eyes, her hand coming to rest upon his shoulder. "Bilbo, you will see Ivy and your home again, this I swear to you," Elizabeth stared steadily into the hobbit's eyes, her voice filled with conviction to see her vow through. "And I will do everything in my power to see you there. Now rest, Bilbo, for we have quite a day ahead of us. Especially if our meeting with our host turns most sour." 

"You are right," Bilbo sighed. "Can you find it in yourself to rest as well? Or do your troubles weigh upon you too heavily?" Upon the half startled look he received, Bilbo gave a light laugh. "Have you thought yourself discrete? Your face as of late has been an open book." 

"How disconcerting," Elizabeth muttered. 

"Oh, I find it quite the opposite. I find it more disconcerting when you hide yourself behind a mask," the hobbit stated, shifting down further into his bed of hay. 

"I hide behind no mask," she denied. 

"Then you bottle it all up inside," Bilbo corrected to humor her, which she knew if the light frown she shot him was any indication. "Either way, it is not healthy." 

"Perhaps the hobbit should take his own advice when it comes to such matter," Elizabeth stated, not unkindly. Bilbo gave an amused snort when he noticed the faint curve of her mouth. 

"Perhaps the hobbit should," he agreed, after a long moment. 

"I miss my flute!" Bofur declared, loudly. All and any conversation ceased from everyone as they turned to look at the dwarf who fussed with his hat. "Nothing lifted my spirits more than a tune!" 

"He wants some prunes?" Oin said, in disgust. 

Gloin just sighed, with a shake of his head. 

"What of ye, lass? Do you still have your ocarina on ye?" Bofur looked over at Elizabeth, with a hopeful look in his eyes. 

"I believe I do," Elizabeth said, her eyebrows raised. 

"Allow me the privilege of playing a tune?" Bofur was not ashamed of getting down on his knees before her because he was dreadfully bored. And a bit of dramatic, at times, but who could blame him? 

Elizabeth let out a laugh. "How can I deny such an earnest plea? I shall allow you the privilege," she said, with a wide smile as a few cheered at this development. "We could do with some merriment with all that has happened…" she trailed off, her hand deep within her satchel searching for her ocarina when her fingers brushed something else. It was too small to be her ocarina, she thought with a light frown. 

"Elizabeth," Kili's smile slipped slightly. "What's wrong?" 

Elizabeth didn't need to look up to see the dwarves all looking at her concerned, and she slowly pulled out the strange items. She did not recall having rings in her bag. Grasping them, she pulled them out of the bag and brought them into the firelight, only to have her heart drop. She stared at them as if she had just smacked a warg right on the nose, and was waiting for the inevitable bite. "Claddagh rings," she breathed out. 

"What are Claddagh rings?" Fili looked puzzled. 

Thorin stared at her unabashed. It was the feelings he felt when Gandalf had turned over his father's map and key to him. The awash of emotions, so many emotions, in equal measure painful and hopeful. One ring was a thicker band, with golden bands securing a silver band in the middle with faint carvings that he could barely make out. The other a slim silver band with hands holding a sapphire that had been carved into a tiny heart with a crown on top of it. These rings held significant meaning to Elizabeth, he noted, when he saw the hint of tears around the corners of her eyes and her lips trembled. 

_Her father just looked at her with eyes filled with sorrow and love. "You are gone from us, just as we are gone from you. There is no force that can change that though we may wish it so." He grasped her right hand, his skin colder than hers as he pressed something metal in the palm of her hand. "Live, my precious little girl. Live for yourself and let yourself be happy."_

"I…I just hadn't expected to find them is all," she whispered, numbly as the faint memory came swirling back. She studied the rings, holding them lightly between the tips of her fingers like she could barely believe what she saw. 

"They are important to you?" Fili asked. 

"They are," Elizabeth inclined her head, slightly. She allowed the rings to slid into the palm of her hand, and she closed her hand into a fist to hold them tight. Like she wanted to never let them go, and took a deep breath in order to compose herself. Her heart contracted in her chest like if she breathed too deeply that it would shattered, and she swallowed thickly. The Claddagh rings was a tradition from her grandmother's side of the family, and were used as engagement and wedding rings. _To bind two lovers in happiness forever_ , her mother used to say. She blinked back tears, not willing to let anyone see them fall. 

"Not healthy," Bilbo whispered. 

Elizabeth shot him a grudging look, trying to fight a smile for his muttered comment cut through the tension rising inside of her. She shook her head lightly, and cleared her throat as she pulled her ocarina. "Here you go, Bofur," she handed it over to the dwarf, eager to put this moment behind her until she had a moment of privacy to deal with it. 

Bofur took the instrument after a moment. He inspected it, and tried it out. It was far different from a flute, but after quiet instruction from Elizabeth, he managed to get the way of it quite nicely for a beginner. "Alright, let me see here," he said, before he played a familiar tune that made Bilbo groan, burying his face into his arms while Kili and Fili perked up. It wasn't long until the song "That's What Bilbo Baggins Hate" was being sung by practically every member of the Company, save for a couple. 

Gandalf puffed on his pipe with a merry smile on his face. The wizard made smoke rings for Kili and Fili to toss pieces of bread through it as they danced around. Elizabeth smiled, clapping her hands together to the beat of the song. Her storm of emotions momentarily forgotten that was until her eyes flickered towards Thorin. Though he was not singing along with the rest of the Company, his expression had lifted. The severe lines of his face had eased up, and there was a hint of a smile playing around the corner of his mouth. 

She liked it when he smiled. It made her feel… _elated_ , in a way that she wasn't able to describe. There was just this feeling that rose in her chest, one that swelled up inside with overwhelming warmth and felt light. As feeling the weight of her stare, Thorin looked up and his small smile slipped away. Her lungs tightened painfully, and she knew that in her heart that she had to tell him the rest of her story. She was half afraid of his reaction to it, and half afraid that the trust they had grown in one another would be extinguished completely. 

Wrapping her arms around herself, she ducked her head. Her had went numb, she clutched the rings tightly there. 

Bofur set the ocarina down in his lap after playing "The Merry Old Inn" before he leaned back against the wall, and his smile slipped into something a bit somber as the Company's noise grew silent. There were several moments when all that could be heard was the faint crackling of the dying fire. Bofur pulled his hat off the top of his head, slowly and he stared up at the ceiling as if not really seeing it. He opened his mouth and began to sing quietly, "It's a thin line that leads us and keeps a man from shame. And dark clouds quickly gather along the way he came. There's fear out on the mountain and death out on the plain. There's heartbreak and heart-ache in the shadow of the flame." 

Fili and Kili took their places beside Thorin, as Dori pulled Ori a little closer to him. It seemed all the Company's family members drifted together as the song went on. Elizabeth could feel the ache seep out of them, especially the older dwarves. Bilbo shifted onto his side, and looked over the Company. 

_"This love will carry, this love will carry me, I know this love will carry me…"_ Bofur sang, his voice quiet and his brown eyes steadily forward. 

Elizabeth dared another glance at Thorin. She saw the shadows on his gaze, and knew as he stared into the dying fires, that he stared into the fires that burned Erebor. She felt a heat snake up her skin, the faint scars ached for she remembered them well from her nightmare. 

_"Success lasts for a moment and failure's always near And you look down at your blistered hands as turns another year_ ," Dori joined Bofur in his song, and their combined voices added even more depth to the lyrics. Other began to hum the tune underneath their breaths as a calm that had been sorely missed swept over them all. 

Elizabeth however, could not surrender to the calm. Not when the bead in her hair felt heavy like a weight, the ones around her hand felt like a vice grip and the rings in her hand burned like ice. Her unnatural eyes glittered, and those slow traced over Thorin's face. How his eyes had looked upon her earlier this day, fierce as thunder daring to take her secrets from her lips. There was so much to be said. 

She knew this when Thorin's eyes turned upon hers, and she could still the haunting flames contained within them. It was unavoidable as it was unavoidable that she would find herself on this quest. She had long come to the conclusion that her fate was tied closer to the Lonely Mountains more than she could have ever fathomed though she did not know where this would lead. Or what it would bring, she thought with her heart sinking into her stomach as trepidation crept along the nape of her neck. 

_"These days are golden, they must not waste away, for our time is like that flower and soon it will decay."_

It was hard to face the intensity of Thorin's stare, to feel his eyes try to unravel her from the inside out and she was surprised no one else in the room cringed from the tension that crackled between them. Her lips were pursed, a self-conscious effort not to speak. She knew this conversation was one that needed to take place, but here and now was not the time to do. Her story would bring up emotions, his and hers. She would do them both a service by doing it privately instead of in the company, because Thorin had an image, a respectability that he held himself in front of the company allowing few to see the lighter side beneath the stoicism. She knew with the truth revealed, it could very well shake his regale composure and she couldn't in good conscious do that in front of a crowd. He didn't deserve that. 

_"This love will carry, this love will carry me. I know this love will carry me."_

Elizabeth wished she knew what he was thinking. Did he feel betrayed? Did he feel angry? She felt like she would have a better handle on this if she knew his thoughts, but he was unlikely to share them with her now. She felt a knot in her chest at that thought, and she lowered her gaze as the song came to an end. No rest would come to her tonight, not any that would mean anything. 

* * *

It the dead of night a mouse scampered across a chessboard, the pieces shaped like bears. Fitting considering their host, Bilbo thought as the snores of all the company drifted all around him. Besides him with her arms crossed across her chest, Elizabeth laid still and her eyes shut. Bilbo lifted up slightly, and after making sure that no one was watching him, he pulled out his ring. He examined the simple golden band, still mesmerized by it. Something stirred in his chest, a strange feeling that he wasn't sure was good or bad. His brows furrowed, and he leaned his face closer to the ring. He could swear he something. A faint voice, but that couldn't be. Could it? 

Bilbo bit back a scream, hastily shoving the ring in his pocket when Elizabeth let out a big sigh. "Where are you going?" Bilbo jolted when Elizabeth shifted forward, and started to rise. He couldn't make out her expression, the fire had died into glowing embers and stood no chance against the shadows of the night. Her eyes, however, were alit. The unnatural hues glowing ever so slightly, and such a sight might unsettle others, but to Bilbo it was comfort. 

"No where. I just need a moment," Elizabeth whispered, patting his arm gently. Bilbo could make out the whites of her teeth as she flashed him a smile, but the hobbit could tell it wasn't a real one. He listened her light footsteps fade away, and he let out a deep sigh before he tried to close his eyes. He fell into a restless sleep. 

* * *

Thorin did not what stirred him from sleep. 

Only that one moment he had been blissfully submersed in the blackness, and the next his eyes were open. He stared out at his surrounding, as his awareness seeped back in and his blue eyes drifted over Kili and Fili. An unconscious to assure himself that they were well. He knew the pressure that was laid upon their shoulders. They wished for his approval, as an uncle and a leader. Not only that, Fili had responsibilities as his heir and had to hold himself to a higher standard than most. Kili, his second heir, had the luxury to be more open and free though he had no doubt that Kili wished to the Durin Line proud as well. 

There was little he would deny, either of them if they so asked. He did not know how to express the pride he felt when he saw them each day, but he was very proud. A small smile was his face when watched Kili snorted lightly in his sleep before flopping over and using his brother as a pillow, drooling. Fili gave a light sigh, but didn't stir far too used to his brother's sleeping habits. 

Thorin allowed his eyes to lift up off his nephews, then he looked towards Balin and Dwalin. They had stood by him long before Erebor's fall, and it gave him much solace that they would stand by him in this quest to see it rise to glory once more. He glanced over the rest of company, and while it had not been the army he had wanted, he could not have asked for any better. They had stood behind him, when others had so easily forsaken oaths they had taken. He made a silent promise to ensure that each of them had a place in Erebor when it was retaken. He would honor them long before he would honor his grandfather's former council who had spurned his quest as impossible. 

A frown came to his face when looked towards the hobbit, his shield-brother, more noble than half of the dwarves at the Ironhills. It was not because of Bilbo that he frowned, but the empty pile of hay beside him in which a certain woman had fallen asleep now laid empty. Elizabeth was nowhere in sight. 

Thorin felt alarm surge through him, and he sat up a little straighter. Surely she would not have been so foolish to venture outside? A glance up at the large doors should that the lock was still firmly in place, and he rose to his feet as silently as he possibly could. He carefully stepped over Bifur and Bofur, then made his way around the corner to the great dining room. He let out a small breath of relief when he saw her silhouette. 

She sat at the large table, twisting the rings between her rings idly. Her hair hung down loosely around her shoulders in gentle waves, and her expression cast in shadows. He did not need to see her expression to feel the anguish that came off of her in waves as her shoulders shook with dying sobs. There was several heartbeats before she held the rings between her thumbs and index fingers then kissed them gently. "I swear I will. I promise I'll try," she whispered out, her voice raw and hoarse. She had been crying, Thorin realized with a twist in his gut. He lingered there for several seconds, contemplating breaking the silence and alerting her of his presences. Instead, he drew a quiet breath and then stole away back to his makeshift bed unaware that Elizabeth had been aware of him the whole time. 

* * *

A massive bear growled and prowled through the woods determined to find any orc it could get its claws into. From the edge of the woods, Azog watched with a great sneer on his face and his fists tighten with anger. Once again, he is to be deny Oakenshield's head. One of his orcs approached him, cautiously, "Bu margi hum. Guri shugi khozdayil." _Attack them now. Kill the Dwarf filth while they sleep._

Azog whilred around sharply, and was filled with a dark satisfaction when the orc flinched back. "Shâ. Hulim nari arangish," he growled out, and he turned to march angrily away from the house. _No. The Beast stand guard._

They walk back to where the rest of the group is; several wargs are fighting each other for the orcs amusement. "Zadgarimid ru mong," Azog said, imaging the look on Oakenshield face when he shows him his nephews heads on a pike. Perhaps he will also allow him to live long enough to see him defile the woman. He had never gotten the pleasure of do so before. _We will kill them on the road._

"But we aren't empty handed," hissed Garnuk, and made a gestured. Two orcs behind him went to fetch the prisoner while Garnuk gave a wicked smile showing off his crooked and yellowed teeth. "We found this one following the dwarves…" 

The two orcs shoved the pale creature to the ground, and it screamed and spat. But with a sword the orcs kept it pinned down on the ground. Azog took a step towards the pitiful looking thing with a black, gloating pleasure in his eyes at the thought of torturing something. However, his pleasure was short lived when a sound echoed through the forest. The orcs all pull out their weapons a split second before another large, pale orc astride a warg rushed them, and the warg stopped inches from Azog, growling at his face. 

Azog stood without flinching, and snarled at the display. The pale orc on the warg smirked down at him, metal plates along his skull and his chest. "Bolg," Azog growled out, wishing nothing more than to strike the willful orc down where he stood. The only reason he was not struck down was Azog's blood flowed through his veins. "What is the meaning of interrupting my hunt?" 

Bolg sneered down at his father. "They are gathering in Dol Guldur. The Master has summoned you!" 

A deep, angry noise erupted from Azog. "Very well. After…I finish with my new toy," Azog turned his back dismissively on his son, and stepped towards the pathetic, whimpering creature on the forest floor. A dark feeling of triumph and contempt rose inside of him as it looked up at him with fear. 

"Gollum…Gollum…" Gollum croaked, terrified and desperate. His screamed echoed off into the night, until he could scream no more. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just don't get why Gollum didn't leave the Misty Mountains way before Lord of the Rings. I suppose the fact that he was probably greatly frightened by the world beyond those caves could be a factor, but his love for the ring in my opinion was greater. The Chapter Title was inspired by the song "The Bear and the Maiden", which is a good song though I'm pretty sure it has a few euphemisms in it. Or maybe I'm just dirty minded, I don't know.  
> Hope you all enjoyed! :D  
> 1.) Namad (khudzul) sister  
> 2.) Claddagh Ring: (Irish: fáinne Chladaigh) It is a traditional Irish ring given which represents love, loyalty, and friendship. The hands represent friendship, the heart represents love and the crown represents loyalty. Worn on the right hand means different things than it being worn on the left hand, and the way the ring is positions can change the meaning as well. If the heart is pointed towards the fingers tips on the right hand means the wearer is looking for love. If the heart tip is pointed towards the finger tips on the left hand, the wearer is engaged. If the heart tip is pointed towards the wrist on the left hand, the wearer is married. If the heart tip is pointed towards the wrist on the left hand, the wearer is in a relationship.  
> 3.) Elizabeth's Ring: The woman's rings is based off of the "Caged Hearts Claddagh Ring" with Forever Together written of the inside of the band. The man's ring is based off of "Mens Celtic Wedding Rings MG-WED236", but instead of it being a pure golden band, the outside rings are gold and the large inside ban is silver. No name is written on the inside of the band. Care to guess who it's for? Wink wink  
> 4.) "This Love Will Carry" by Dougie Mac Lean. I did not use the entire lyrics of the song because of the rule against songfics, though I don't think my story qualifies as such, but better safe than sorry. I guess we'll find out if it randomly deleted...I hope not, cuz that would suck. So any lyrics that isn't from Tolkien's work (which is part of the books, therefore usable for fanfics), will only be given in a few lines not the whole song. However, I will give you the name of the song so you may look it up and listen to it on you tube or somewhere.


	22. Are These Walls Surrounding You Safe?

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 

"Are These Walls Surrounding You Safe?"

* * *

Elizabeth did find sleep eventually. 

After she was able put away the rings and her thoughts, she managed to close her eyes and slip into a deep slumber though it was far from restful. All too soon was she dragged back to consciousness when a loud and her head jerked upward. Blinking her bleary eyes, she glanced around and sat up. She noticed that all the Company still seemed asleep and she glanced down the long hallway where the animal stood in their stalls. Everything from sheep to an ox, stood there comfortably and none of them looked as if they had made the sound. 

When the noise happened again, Elizabeth was now wide awake enough to realize that the sound was not happening from inside of the house. 

It was coming from the _outside_. 

A jolt of alarm sprang through her heart, and she was now on her feet. Reaching over, she grasped Bilbo's arm and shook him. "Bilbo…Bilbo," she whispered out, the tone in her voice urgent and sharp. 

The hobbit mumbled something in his sleep, and half-heartedly swatted at her before pressing his face down into the hay. Elizabeth let out an exasperated sigh, and hissed, "Get up! Get up!" 

"To your feet!" Thorin had stirred from the first thud. 

At Thorin's bellow, the entire company startled awake. Bifur let out a loud shout of khuzdul, while Gloin snorted loudly. "Wha's the matta….?" Bofur grasped for his hat as he set up, and accidentally he kicked Kili in the leg. Kili who immediately blamed his brother for the kick, and punched at his brother sleepily. It made was so far off of target that Fili just laughed. 

"What is it, Thorin?" Balin's old bones creaked as he rose to his feet. 

"We have company," Thorin's voice was low and filled with grave warning. 

Everything went completely still, and another thud came from outside. Elizabeth glanced at the secured door before looking over at Bofur who climbed upon several boxes to peer out a high window. "What do you see, Bofur?" She asked, with a light frown on her lips. 

Bofur wiped one of the small panels of the window clean with the edge of his hat, and then pressed his face against it to look out. He couldn't see who was outside quite clearly, with the ferns and ivy growing in front of the window. But he saw enough. "He's a big one," Bofur said, uneasily. "And he wielding a big axe." 

"Our host?" Thorin asked Gandalf, a dry undertone to his voice. 

"Indeed," Gandalf inclined his head. "Ah, it appears that he is aware that we are awake, and has sent a welcoming committee," the wizard smiled as a bee floated down in front of his face. 

"Hello." 

The bee buzzed, genially. 

Elizabeth realized that it was not alone. About ten bees came floating down from the rafters, and floated around the Company. "Bees!" Dwalin hissed, his hand twitched towards his axes though Balin shook his head. 

"Look at the sizes of them!" Ori gasped in awe. Dori pulled his younger brother to his side, and looked at all the bees as if they were elves. Nori was twisting a throwing knives between his fingers idly. 

Elizabeth lifted a finger, and the bee landed, balancing its large body along her knuckle. A fascinated smile curved her lips as she stared at the bee, and it's buzzing wings. She let out a small laugh when one flew up, and tickled Bilbo's nose much to the hobbit's chagrin. As a child Elizabeth had never been afraid of bees, because they helped make flowers and she had loved flowers. A faint memory stirred in the back of her mind, but before she could grasp onto it, Kili spoke up, "What are we going to do?" 

Fili looked ill at ease. "Should we greet him?" He asked, his blue eyes darted over to his uncle. Thorin's jaw clenched, and yet he knew that they had little choice in this matter. "I say we leg it out the backdoor," Nori suggested. 

Dwalin growled, grabbing the cutpurse by the scruff of his neck and shoving him aside. "I am not running from anyone, beast or no," the warrior spoke, his voice rough and gravely. 

"There is not point in arguing. We cannot pass through the Wilderland without Beorn's help. We'll be hunted down before we even make to the edge of the forest. Now…this will require some delicate handling," Gandalf stated, shuffling towards the door and he swept around to face the entire company. "We shall have to greet our host as young Fili suggested, but not all at once. It shall us do no good to overwhelm him, or aggravate him as you all are likely to do. The last person to do was torn to shreds." 

The wizard ignored any offended looks or words sent his way, with an infinite patience he was always good at except in times of stress such as this. "Be silence, and let a wizard have his thoughts!" He ordered them to quiet down, and ran his finger through his beard thoughtfully. 

"Ah…Bilbo." 

"Uh, yes?" The hobbit said. He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he wasn't going to like what was going to come out of Gandalf's mouth next. 

"I shall go to meet Beorn first, and you shall come along," Gandalf stated. 

Bilbo knew it. Several protests were on his lips, but not a one managed to escape. A resigned sigh slipped out when he saw Thorin jerk his head towards the wizard, a silent indication to go forth. _I would have never signed that contract or accepted becoming a shield-brother if I knew this was involved_ , he grumbled to himself, though he knew the thought was a falsehood. Despite all the ups and downs of this journey, he wouldn't take it back for the world and they hadn't even reached the end yet. 

"Now the rest of you, just wait here…" Gandalf stressed his words, knowing the dwarves' penchant for not listening to them. "Do not come out until I have given the signal." 

"Right," Bofur said, a tad shakily. "Wait for the signal." 

Gandalf nodded, sharply. "No sudden moves, or loud noise. Do not overcrowd him, and make him feel trapped. Ah, Elizabeth?" His eyebrow raised upward as she looked towards him. "You shall come out last," Gandalf pointed a finger at her. "He is not overly fond of dwarves, as I have said and if things were to go south…I am hoping that a fair face may halt any retribution he may seeks." 

Elizabeth gave Gandalf a dry look, but nodded her head. The wizard smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "Right. The rest of you will come out in pairs," he said, and turned to go out the door with Bilbo by his side, but then a thought occurred to him. "Uh, no. Actually, Bombur…" Bombur looked up at the wizard as he bit off a piece of carrot. 

"Um, you count as two so you should come out alone," the wizard stated, as gently as he could. Bombur nodded, chewing his carrot and the wizard sighed. "Remember. Wait for the signal." 

It was only until after Bilbo and Gandalf were out the door that Bofur asked, "What signal would that be?" All the dwarves looked at each other as if the other had the answer. Elizabeth gave a small groan, running her finger through her hair. "That was probably a question to ask before he left," she shook her head, lightly. 

"What are you worry about?" Gloin huffed. "You get to come out last. By the time he's finished with us, he'll probably be full when he gets to you." 

"Gloin," Balin admonished. 

"What?" Gloin blinked. "I was just pointing out that the lass stands to have a fighting chance. What's so wrong about that?" 

_Dwarves_. Elizabeth thought with a fond smile. 

"You're nervous." 

Elizabeth tried not to startle when she felt Thorin's arm braced against her back, his palm laid flat against the wall creating a cage with his body. She tilted her head to look over her shoulder at his arm before she slowly turned her hand to face the door. "A bit," she admitted, curling her fingers against her palm to stop tapping them against her thigh. "But then I find I am always nervous when it becomes a possibility that I might end up as another's supper." She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. "And yourself? Are you nervous?" 

"Nay," Thorin shook his head. "I cannot entertain such thoughts, for such doubt is like a festering wound and will spread from one thought to the next. I cannot have that. I have this company to lead, and a home to reclaim with enemies at every turn. I cannot afford to be nervous." 

"I suppose it is a weakness a king cannot afford," Elizabeth said, quietly. It was hard to ignore that his body was only inches from hers, and it was hard to ignore the heat that came rolling off of him. Would he ask her about the bead again? At a time like this? Surely not. Though she couldn't be certain, of course. As much as Elizabeth had come to learn and know about Thorin Oakenshield, he was still very much an infinite mystery. 

"I am not a king," Thorin corrected, after a moment. He was not a dwarf of many words, but when he spoke, all was enthralled by him. He harbored his thoughts, allowing them to distill inside of his mind before he allowed them to escape his lips. The knowledge of the bead was no different. It festered inside his mind, and he had no way to ease these thoughts except for answers. Those answers would have to wait until a more suitable time, though it pained to wait at all. He thirsted for knowledge of his father as a dying man in the desert thirsted for water. The last image of his father played in his mind incessantly, over and over. Where Thorin stood helplessly as his father rushed off into the throes of battle, disappearing amongst the orcs and dwarves. "Not yet." 

Elizabeth glanced at him, her eyes softening. "You are a king. You may not have a crown, or a throne yet, and perhaps in the eyes of lesser people that means that you are not worthy of that title. But in the eyes of everyone here, you are a king and are proud to call you leader. No crown or lack of one can change that." 

His blue eyes searched her face for a long time. "And you? Is that what your eyes see when they gaze upon me? A king?" He questioned, his voice low and his head tilted to the side. 

"I…" Elizabeth felt surprise rush through, caught off by the question. Her wide eyes flickered around his face, but before she had even a chance to think of an answer, someone shouted, "The signal!" The doors opened once more, and as it happened so often before, everything descended into chaos. 

* * *

The man was larger than any that Bilbo had ever seen standing over eight feet tall, with a wild mane of brown nearly black hair that extended down his back. His great bare arms and legs with knotted muscles. He was clothed in a tunic of wool down to his knees, and he swung a large axe down. It sliced through the log as easily as butter. Bilbo swallowed down his trepidation and glanced over at the wizard, only to see that Gandalf didn't look so certain, either. "You're nervous," Bilbo accused, shocked. 

"What?" Gandalf glanced at the hobbit. His grey eyes flickered back to their host before he gave a scoff. "Nervous? What nonsense," the wizard huffed, gathering his robe and holding it up so that he could more across the yard more briskly. He finally reached a stop, a good six feet away from Beorn and smiled. "Good morning." 

Bilbo almost used the words the wizard had used on him that fateful morning, but as Beorn brought the axe down harshly, he decided better of it. Right now was not the best time to be trading words with Gandalf. Beorn did not acknowledge them right away. Instead, he chose to swing his axe once more. Gandalf bit back a sigh, and said a little louder, but never losing his pleasant tone, "Good morning!" 

A growl reverberated through the shape shifter, and he craned his head to look out of the corner of his eye at the wizard. "Who are you?" A short, simple demanded was all he made. 

_Not one for pleasantries_ , Bilbo shifted nervously. 

"I'm Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey." 

"Never heard of him," growled the man. 

"I am wizard. I have heard of you, if you have not heard of me; but perhaps you have heard of my good cousin Radagast who lives near the Southern borders of Mirkwood?" Gandalf inquired, while Bilbo tried to stay out of sight for as long as he could behind his robes. 

"What do you want?" Beorn demanded. 

"To thank you for your hospitality," Gandalf assured him, never losing his genially tone. "As you surely have noticed we sought refuge in your lodging…" When Gandalf moved, he exposed Bilbo to Beorn's gaze. 

"And what's this little fellow?" he said, frowning at the hobbit with his bushy eyebrows. He lifted his axe warily and it took everything in Bilbo not to back away. "He's not a dwarf, is he?" 

"No! No, no! This my dear fellow is a hobbit by the name of Bilbo Baggins," Gandalf was quick to intervene before things got out of hand which they seemed likely to do. "A hobbit of good family and unimpeachable reputation." 

Beorn seemed to recognize the term 'hobbit' and relaxed much to Bilbo's relief. "A Halfling and a wizard. How come you here?" He looked between the stranger pair, curiosity gleaming in his gaze. 

"To tell you the truth, we have lost our luggage and nearly lost our way, and are rather in need of help, or at least advice. I may say we have had rather a bad time with goblins in the mountains." 

"Goblins?" said the big man less gruffly. "O ho, so you've been having trouble with them have you? What did you go near them for? Stupid thing to do." 

"You are absolutely right," Gandalf said, while making a hand gesture to signal the door. "We did not mean to. They surprised us at night in a pass which we had to cross, we were coming out of the Lands over West into these countries-it is a long tale. Ah! Here are some more of our company right now." 

Beorn looked up to see two dwarves exit his house, and he raised his axe. To their credit, Dwalin had left his axes behind (at Balin's insistence no doubt) and the two stood on the other side of the yard. "Dwalin and Balin," Dwalin introduced himself, as politely as he could muster. "I must confess," Gandalf tried to look contrite, "that several of our company are in fact…dwarves." 

"Do you call two… _several_?" Beorn twisted his axe, and his tone filled with suspicion. 

"Well, now, that you put it that way…" Gandalf stuttered for a moment, and Bilbo shot him a worried look. "There might be…more than two." Before Gandalf could even begin to work the situation into their favor, Oin and Gloin came rushing out. They stood stiffly beside Dwalin and Balin. 

Gandalf bit back a sigh. "Here are some more of our…happy troop," the wizard mustered up a happy smile, and gestured to the two addition. 

"Is six a happy troop?" Beorn's eye twitched dangerously. "What are you? A traveling circus?" 

Gandalf laughed, a bit more nervously than he would ever admit and made a wave with his hand. They might as well get this over with, however painful or painless it would be. Beorn snarled slightly, baring teeth when Ori and Dori came stumbling out. 

"Dori and Ori, at your service," Dori introduced them, his voice holding an audible tremble. 

"I don't want your service," Beorn rumbled. 

"Absolutely understandable," Gandalf said, placating. 

Fili and Kili came out next. Fili came out with his head held high, and with a dignity that had been learned from his uncle. His blue eyes landed on Beorn, and stayed upon their axe wielding host. He came out before his brother, instinctively. Kili held himself in a similar manner to his brother, but unlike Fili, he was not able to disguise the shock of seeing their host and blatantly stared with wide eyes. 

"Fili and Kili. I had quite forgotten," Gandalf chuckled, which quickly ceased when there was a pounding of footsteps and four other dwarves came stumbling out of the house like drunken fools. Bombur at their heels. "Oh, yes. Nori, Bofur, Bifur…and Bombur," Gandalf sighed, heavily. 

"Is that it?" Beorn said, his expression furious. "Are there anymore?" 

Thorin stepped around the corner, and his expression was fierce. His blue eyes leveled upon Beorn, and he did not look intimidate when the shape shifter gave him a severe look. 

"Thorin and Elizabeth," Gandalf said, quickly. 

Elizabeth walked out, and went to venture further past Thorin into the main part of the Company when a hand clasped on her wrist. She sucked in a swift breath through clenched teeth, but otherwise did not openly startle. Her eyes flickered over to Thorin's face, but his gaze remained firmly fixated on Beorn. His fingers held her tight at her wrist, forcing her to remain by his side. 

Beorn allowed his axe slowly to slip downward into a non-threatening hold, and he lumbered forward. A dissonance went through the dwarves in a flurry of dark mutters and glares towards the shape shifter. He paid them little mind, his copper gaze on Elizabeth as he stepped forward. "I know you," Beorn pointed down at Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth blinked slowly. "I think I would have remember someone of your great stature, Mister Beorn," she said, a huff of laughter in her voice as she stared up at the impossible large man, but surprisingly she felt no fear in standing in his great shadow. 

"Perhaps," Beorn commented, his voice was gravely and demanded attention in a similar way to Thorin's, but not quite the same. "Perhaps not. You may have no memory of I, little sprite, but I have many of you." 

"Sprite?" Kili made a face. 

"Aye. Many moons ago, a little sprite walked these lands between my home and the Carrock. One that moved through the trees like ghost by night, and left a fresh kill of orcs every morning. That was until the little sprite got brave and decided to make her way across those dangerous mist covered mountains. I do not often make an effort to travel far from these lands, but I traveled long enough to see the little sprite safely across that jagged stone path," Beorn cocked his head to the side, his brown eyes evaluated Elizabeth then glanced briefly at Thorin who shifted forward, regarding the shape shifter with suspicion. Beorn disregarded the dwarf and looked back at the woman. "I wonder, what fate has brought the little sprite back?" 

Elizabeth stared up at him, at a complete loss for words. 

* * *

The Company settled around the large dining table, as food was brought to them by Beorn and his animals. Elizabeth could not disguise her shock when she saw a dog walking on its hinder legs like that, but the animals here seemed more intelligent and capable than normal animals. She supposed that was Beorn's influence upon them, and sat there silently between Kili and Thorin. She had been rather quiet after Beorn's revelation, and she didn't know what to make of it. To know that all that time she had a silent guardian watching over her, the very thought of it seemed abstract in her mind and hard to process. 

A small white mouse came to the edge of the table, and stood up on its hind legs. It squeaked up at Elizabeth, and she broke off a tiny piece of the cheese she had been nibbling on, handing it over to the small mouse. The mouse squeaked, happily and she stroke its back as it ate the cheese. Beorn's house was a lonely little place, yet it had a lived in feel to it. A welcoming warmth only increased now that Beorn had allowed them shelter. For how long was still up for debate. Her eyes glanced around aimlessly, seeking solace from the paths her thoughts were trying to go down. She saw a chess set on a small table, its wooden pieces as if someone had been playing. Her brows furrowed slightly, but she is pulled back into the present when Beorn spoke. "So you are the one they call Oakenshield. Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?" 

Thorin looked up at Beorn, cagily. No matter how human his appearance now, though a bit large, Thorin did not allow it lure him into a sense of security. He remembered the violent beast that chased them, nor did his keen eyes miss the goblin head pike outside the gates with a warg skin hung beside it. The shape shifter could be a fierce enemy and predator, and if you stumbled around a predator, they would attack. "You know of Azog? How?" He asked, his tone curt and gruff. Gandalf sent him a reproachful look, but did not vocally reprimand the dwarf. "If you wish for my tale, Oakenshield, I would hear yours first," Beorn rumbled as he took a seat at the head of the table, in the chair too large for anyone else to sit. It was also too large for Gandalf to sit upon, for Beorn towered over all even the wizard. 

"Of course, of course," Gandalf nodded, agreeably. He clasped his hands together, and braced his elbows on the table as the dwarves munched upon their breakfast eagerly. "They are on their way to visit the land of their fathers, away east beyond Mirkwood," put in Gandalf, "and it is entirely an accident that we are in your lands at all. We were crossing by the High Pass that should have brought us to the road that lies to the south of your country, when we were attacked by the evil goblins. A terrible storm caused the company to seek sheltered within the mountains—the stone-giants were out hurling rocks, and we nearly lost Elizabeth! She took quite a fall." 

Elizabeth grimaced at the reminder of that fall, and knew just how fortunate she had been to survive that. If she returned to Rivendell, she would be careful not to mention in front of her family. Ada would never allow her to leave Rivendell again, and cite her life threatening idiocy to justify locking her away in a tower if need be. Gandalf continued on with the story, telling of the chaotic battle in the Goblin Tunnels all the way to the confrontation with Azog that lead the Company here to his doorstep. "So as you can see, we are in desperate need for aid," the grey wizard commented, a demure note in his voice. Those that knew him weren't in the least bit fooled, and Elizabeth had a feeling neither was Beorn, though the shape shifter overlooked it. 

"My people were the first to live in the mountains. I was once one of many though that is no longer the way it is." A deep sadness reverberated through Beorn, one that he could not disguise nor did he attempt to. "We lived where there was peace and plenty, content to roam our wilds with abandon. We had settled back into these lands after our task in guarding Yavanna's children in the Vales of Anduin was past," Beorn rumbled, allowing himself to unwind just a margin. 

"Yavanna's children?" Ori perked up. The little scribe was doing his best to soak up any knowledge that he could, and he hand had hardly stop for a moment. 

"Hobbits," Bilbo looked stunned. "You mean hobbits." 

"Indeed" Beorn inclined his head while passing the hobbit more bread and honey. "Eat up, little bunny. You looked starved." 

Many bristled at the implication, while Elizabeth's eyebrow rose upward at the nickname. Bilbo felt his cheeks flush, and he looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Don't you even think about it," Bilbo sniped, smothering honey on the piece of bread and took a big bit while Elizabeth attempt to look as innocent as she could. 

As Beorn settled back into his great chair, he continued with his story. "Yavanna's children possessed an unparalleled skill to adept to whichever land they chose, for they are children of the green and kind earth. No land shall forsaken them, but that did not mean that threats did not exist. There were many who would exploit the wee hobbits, for they were not built for battle. When the darkness began to spread through these lands many centuries ago, Yavanna knew her children would be amongst the first to be targeted by the evil. It was then the hobbits fled from these hills to a promised land, one blessed by her hand where they would be safe. My kind, however, did not wander as far as the little Halflings did. Not all lands would accept us as it did them." 

"Indeed, hobbits are not known for their battle prowess though they are not as helpless as all tales would lead others to believe," Gandalf nodded, with a light frown on his face. "There are a handful of account in history in which the hobbits took up arms against the forces of evil. Bullroarer Took is such a case," he said, his gaze flickered towards Bilbo. Bilbo gave him a dry glance before turning back towards Beorn. "I had always heard tales from the elders of the Shire of a time of wandering, but never have I heard of shape shifters like yourself wandering with us." 

"Silent guardians, we were," Beorn said, placing his large hand on the table to allow the white mouse who had its fill from Elizabeth sneaking it cheese to race up his arm. It crawled up onto his shoulder, and curled up into a little ball, falling asleep. "We told not our story, and the hobbits did not speak theirs. For us to fade into obscurity and from the world's eye meant to be safely harbored from those that would threaten us." 

"And yet you say that you are the last of your kind," Thorin noted, his blue eyes flickered. "An entire people do not fall from time. Your people were hunted," Thorin stated, there was no question in his voice. It was not difficult to decipher the weight in the cagey shape shifter eyes, and the scars along his arms. His eyes lingered on the remnants of the manacle on Beorn's wrist, but only for a moment, before he raised his gaze up. 

"Indeed not," Beorn's lips pulled back into a light snarl. He eyes Thorin as if the dwarf were something he would scrape off his boot. "After years of peace and prosperity, Orcs came down from the north. The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved. Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him." Elizabeth felt a cold stone settle in her stomach. Her heart twisted with sorrow for Beorn, for she knew firsthand how far Azog's cruelty could go. She pushed away her plate, only crumbs left on it and the food in her stomach settled sickly. 

"You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn?" Beorn intoned after letting out a weighty sigh, and he rose to his feet. 

"Before Durin's Day falls, yes." 

"You are running out of time. The only passage that would allow to reach the mountain with time to spare is through Mirkwood, and that forest welcomes none now," Beorn frowned, deeply. "A darkness has taken over the woods, seeped up from the ground and through the roots. Like a plague of locust, gluttonously destroying all in its path. The Wood-Elves of Mirkwood are not like their kind. Less wise, more dangerous. Especially so in these trying times." 

"Welcome or no, it is the path that we have chosen," Gandalf said, gravely. "One we cannot stray from now." 

"Your path is set, then?" Beorn looked around the Company curiously, and he rose up out of his chair. "These lands are crawling with Orcs. Path or no path, their numbers grow and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive." 

Thorin's lips twist, his chin jutted out stubbornly. 

Beorn glowered down upon Thorin. "I don't like dwarves. They're greedy and blind," Beorn's voice was a harsh rumble, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "They are blind to the lives of those they deem lesser than their own." 

Elizabeth felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise, and her hand slipped to her bow. A sharp shake of Gandalf's head was the only thing that kept her from notching an arrow as Beorn took another step towards Thorin. 

"But Orcs I hate more." Beorn smirked, slightly. "What do you need?" 

* * *

Elizabeth stood out in the gardens. Several yards from where the others smoke, and she allowed her fingers to drift over the flower petals, gentle enough that she did break them. Her mother had a garden. Nothing as grade or as a beautiful as Beorn's, but she remembered there being tulips. Red ones, and yellows that were so beautiful when they were fully in bloom. Much like the ones she was looking at now, and Elizabeth smiled slightly. 

"Little sprite," Beorn's shadow fell over her. 

"Beorn?" She craned her head to look up at him. 

Beorn's copper eyes studied her. "Your head is full of troubles, small one," he grumbled, lightly. In one of his hand, he held a hawk and with the other he bandaged up the bird of prey's wounded leg. "It puts a sense of unease in your heart. The animals here can sense such things," he explained, when she gave him a questioning frown. 

Elizabeth said nothing for a moment. Instead, she retracted her fingers from petals and glanced over at the dwarves. She immediately noticed Thorin was not amongst them. "There is much to worry about these days," she admitted, after a moment. She then looked at him, curiously. "I never realized that anyone guarded me after…after I escaped Azog." 

His eyes hardened at the name, but he was careful not to let his hands tense around the wounded animal he was tending. "Aye. A silent passenger on your journey I was meant to be," Beorn stated, his voice light. "A part I was well used to playing. Your was for you to carve, little sprite. No one else's." 

"I don't understand," Elizabeth said, her brows furrowed. 

"You will," Beorn promised. "In time." 

Elizabeth did not feel that was all that reassuring, but did not say so outloud. "It's very peaceful here," she commented, instead. 

"It was not always," Beorn stated. "The land was once savage as the orcs that roamed it, but it has been tamed in a manner of speaking. Nature cannot fully be tamed, only hidden by a pleasant visage." 

Elizabeth knew that it was not just the land that Beorn spoke of, but the nature of himself as well. The tender, caretaker that was always at war with the animal each second. A reflection of the world in many ways. There was many stories in Beorn's eyes, part of her wished to ask of them but he would not share them as idle past time nor given to other lightly. 

"You look for him." 

"Who?" She blinked. 

"The one called Oakenshield," he stated. 

Elizabeth faltered, was she truly that transparent? Had her gaze flickered toward Thorin so often in their brief time here that the shape shifter had picked up on it? "Yes," she said, not bothering with denial. She had a feeling that Beorn would see right through, and not appreciate the front. "I have great need to speak with him." 

"Hmmm." The shape shifter gave a thoughtful hum. "I would be wary when it comes to that dwarf. The hearts of dwarves are like the stone from which Mahal carved them, and stone is resistant to change. Great effort it is to be mold it, to earn it's trust, but it is not impossible to harm them. Like a miner chips away at the earth, betrayal, disloyalty and tragedy leaves scars upon their stone hearts. One that take years upon years to erode away if they ever do. Their memories are long ones, and forgiveness is hardly in their nature." 

"Why are you telling me this?" Elizabeth asked, with a frown. His words put a heavy feeling in her stomach, and it was not one easily shaken off. She did not care for the way he described dwarves, they had come to mean quite a lot to her and were most treasured friends. However, in this instance, she bit her tongue for it was not her place to reprimand him. Beorn's distrustfulness and wariness for travelers was greater for dwarves than all others. His experience with the dwarven race must greatly differed from hers, shaping such a view upon them. Unlike most others though, Beorn gave them a chance and offered them aid where few others ever had. There was something to be said for that. 

"There is a sliver of ice in his soul, a crack in his stone heart. A darkness that he carries with him as the wind carries the breeze, and it festers and toils beneath his skin like a fever, burning and burning more hot as the years wear on. His passion for his home is equal to the need for vengeance, to right the wrongs he believes in his heart and threatens to overshadow all he holds close," Beorn warned her, his lips in a stern line. "It a sickness that consumes like a plague of locust upon crops, and corrupts all things even those around them." 

Elizabeth's hands clenched into fists at her side. She knew of what he alluded to, and she jutted out her chin stubbornly. "Thorin is a good man," she defended, vehemently. In her heart, she knew this to be truth. She could see the pain and suffering that had shaped Thorin, but it was not all that he was. It was not all that he could be. "He is a good man." 

"We all start off as good men," Beorn nodded, lightly. "It does not mean we end as one." 

"Thorin will," Elizabeth said, with conviction. There was few things she believes in. Few _people_ she believed in, but Thorin was counted amongst them. His heart has a resilience that only a handful in all of Middle-Earth could claim, and he had endured trial and tribulations that would have left others shattered in their wake. In many ways, Elizabeth felt the echoes of Thorin's pain. She felt a bond between them, an invisible knot that tied them close together and she doubted that she would ever feel such a thing with another person ever again. "His heart may have cracks, but it is not broken. He may have pain and old hurts, but they do not have to define him. Thorin is…he is something special and one day the rest of world will see what all of us have seen. They will see why we follow him with willing hearts. They will see why even in the face of such an impossible task that we were right in following him. Thorin Oakenshield will not fall. I will not let him." 

Beorn contemplated her words for several moments. "A difficult task you've laid upon yourself, little sprite, but perhaps one worth undertaking. Just be sure that when you are watching Oakenshield's steps, that you make sure that he does not falter…that you do not end up falling yourself." He placed the injured hawk into a small bird home that had been built in the middle of the flowers, and walked away without another word. 

* * *

On the other side of the garden, some of the Company gathered to enjoy the time of leisure as much as they could with a hobbit in tow. "I have never seen such a garden," Bilbo mused, his eyes drank in the sight of the various flowers and plant life. The petals and stems all stretched up towards the sun, soaking up the warm rays much like the hobbit was. He was sat down on a log, with a pipe in hand. It was a much needed break for all of the company, and several had took to join him. "Not even in the Shire, as much as it pains me to say." 

Dwalin grunted. "I've never understood the use for flowers," he said the word 'flower' like a curse. Dwalin had taken to join him for a smoke, much to the hobbit's surprise. "They are just colorful weeds that serve no purpose." 

Bilbo looked scandalized. "They do to!" 

Dwalin looked over at the hobbit, and raised his eyebrow in a silent challenge. Bilbo puffed up, and he choked slightly on the smoke. Removing the pipe from where it had been clenched between his lips, Bilbo sat up a little. "Flowers are not colorful weeds. Chamomile can be ground up, and infused with tea leaves to have a soothing and calming effect. Or the passion flower can be used to help one suffering from insomnia and other things. Also they can be used in cooking, if you have the skill for it. And about that pipeweed you are smoking? It had flowers on it once," the hobbit said, with a half smirk. 

Bofur let out a laugh. "He's got you there!" 

Dwalin merely grumbled, good naturedly and continued to smoke only to pause when Elizabeth came to a halt beside them. "May I ask where Thorin is?" She asked, a bit hesitantly. There was no doubt in her mind that Thorin had shared his suspicions with his most close and trusted friends and was wary of what reception she would receive. 

"What ye be wanting with him?" Dwalin arched a brow. 

Elizabeth let out a mute sigh. "I need to speak with him," she stated, simply. Her gaze held Dwalin's piercing glare for several moments, before the warrior relaxed a fraction and a light smirk played upon his lips. 

"He is making use of the facilities," Dwalin told her. "You can go to him. He ought to be decent by now." 

Elizabeth gave him a suspicious look, but inclined her head. She walked back towards the house, with a determination in her stride while the hobbit frowned. "Facilities?" Bilbo asked. 

"The bathing room," Bofur explained, with a shrug. 

"Ah." Bilbo made the noise then his expression pinched when a sudden thought occurred to him. "Wait…what happens if Thorin isn't decent yet?" The hobbit looked horrified by the thought. 

The dwarves shared a mischievous look. 

"Well, then the lass will be getting a look at his majesty's sword, or backside depending on which way he be standing," Balin stated, with more glee than was warranted. It was most unlike the wise and humble dwarf, so it must be the pipeweed. 

Bilbo sputtered, and for a moment his sensibilities wanted him to scold the dwarves for playing such a trick on Elizabeth. However, a moment later…he joined in on the laughter and prayed that Elizabeth never found out. 

* * *

The shape shifter allowed them shelter and use of him house, yet Thorin could not dispel the sense of unease that still laid over him. The strange surrounding from the far too intelligent animals from the wooden walls only enhanced that feeling. Rivulets of water ran down his back as he lifted himself out of the wooden tub, and shook his mane wildly to free himself of the excess water. He dried himself with the woolen towel, and contemplated the next leg of their journey. It would not be an easy task, not that any of their journey had been so. The woods troubled him. It grated on him that they would travel so closely to the Woodland realm, but it was an unavoidable risk. Beorn had given them leave, and offered them shelter for a few more days, so they may rest and prepare. 

Erebor was close. So close. The mountains lingered in the distance, the image from atop the Carrock burned into his mind, and Durin's day approached with all the fury of the drums of war. The woods would take long to transverse, perhaps even more than was intended given Beorn's warning. The road would be a harsh mistress, of that Thorin had little doubt. He only prayed to Mahal that she be a mite kinder than thus far. Thorin pressed his lips into a firm line, and started to lace his leggings when a knock came upon the door. "Enter," he said, assuming that it was Dwalin or Balin coming to plan for the road ahead. A jolt of surprise flashed through when instead Elizabeth walked through. 

Her lips parted with a swift gasp, and she took a half a step back, slightly stumbling towards the door. "I…" Elizabeth's cheeks turned pink. She averted her eyes though she couldn't stop them from flickering back at him to watch the rivulets of water caress their way down the sleek, wet muscles along his back. Her heart fluttered, and she cleared her throat when she found her mouth to parched to talk. "Forgive me, I had assumed when you gave leave to enter that you were fully dressed. I did not mean to walk in on you in such a state of undress," she said, her voice a bit more breathless than she dared to admit. 

A majestic eyebrow shot upward, and the side of his mouth curled. "I am decent enough," Thorin rumbled, to assuage her embarrassment. His blue eyes flickered across the rosy hint to her cheeks, and the way her delicate throat moved when she drew in a sharp breath. "There is no need to feel such embarrassment. You have seen me in such a state at the bottom of the Carrock, did you not?" 

"That was different. I was helping Oin tend to your wound," Elizabeth stated, feeling uncomfortably flustered. She cleared her throat again, and stared at the grains within the wooden wall. "This is…" she trailed off, not sure what to say. "A sight like this is one that only a lover is meant to behold. When we were at the Carrock, an allowance was made because your wounds needed care. There is no such need here, and I…feel that I am taking some liberty that is not mine to take by barging in here and seeing you…like this." 

"You cannot take something that is given freely." 

Elizabeth twisted back towards him, her eyes wide. _Surely he did not mean_ …the thought left unfinished inside of her mind. 

Thorin smiled, lightly. "There are few that I trust to see me without my armor, and without pretense, Elizabeth. You are one of them." 

"Oh," she whispered, a mixture of relief and disappointment flooded through her. She did not care to analyze why disappointment cut her so keenly, and ran her fingers through her hair lightly. "I…I thank you for the faith that you have placed in me. I will treasure it for the gift that it is, and I will do must best to prove that you are not misguided in doing so. That being said…there is something I must discuss with you. You see Gandalf told me that I would find answers on this quest. I just never expect our paths to be so intertwined," Elizabeth stared at Thorin, a helpless kind of sorrow in her eyes. Reaching up, she brushed the hair out of her face and looked around the washroom with a lost feeling rising up in her chest. "I never imagined this. For it all to be this complicated, and tangled together and I fear I know not where to begin." 

"The bead," Thorin made the quiet demand. It had tortured his thoughts, and plagued him like a storm cloud lingering above. "How did you come by it?" 

Elizabeth faltered for a brief moment then breath hissed through her teeth, and Thrain's beads were clasped tightly in her right hand. "He gave it to me," she answered, after a moment. "He braided it into my hair, and left the others in my care." 

"Others?" Thorin's eyes widen just a fraction. 

She swallowed, and drew in a breath. Taking a step then another, she drew closer towards Thorin and slowly unfurled her palm revealing the beads tethered together by that simple leather band. Thorin expelled a harsh gust of air, and shifted towards her. His hand reached out, his fingertips skimmed across the beads as if he did not believe his eyes. "You kept them?" Thorin's eyes searched her face. 

"I think…I think he wanted me to," Elizabeth said, her voice so quiet like a the wind on a still night. "I think it was his hope that one day I would be able to bring them back to you somehow." 

Thorin's hand trembled, a sharp stab lanced through him. There was an almost desperate, reverent look in his eyes as he stared at the beads, and Elizabeth half expected him to snatch them out of her hand, not that she would blame him. Instead, his fingers moved as if he moving against the rushing tide. Slowly and steady, his fingers drew across the flesh of her palm and she stifled a gasp at the sensation. He pulled away with the beads clasped between his fingers only a heartbeat later, and stared at them with a wounded expression. His skin was pale and waxy, confronted by one of the most haunting ghosts of his past. 

A tremor ran through his hand as he examined each and every last bead. He recalled a time where he had been barely old enough to seat up his father's lap, where he had reached up and played with the beads at the end of his father's braid. He dragged his thumb across the runes, and slowly lifted his gaze back to Elizabeth. 

Her chest and rose on a sigh. "Do you remember when I told that I was captured by Azog?" She asked, arms wrapped around her tightly. Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught his sharp nod. Pressing her fingers to her mouth, she expelled a light breath before she turned to face him. "I was not Azog's only prisoner. T-there was a dwarf there, too. I didn't know he was your father…I didn't know he was Thrain. I just…I just put the pieces together myself, and I…" She licked her lips. "After I fell…when I was done in those tunnels, I kept falling in and out of consciousness. I had visions…of my family, of a great many things. It was then I realized the dwarf from my past was you father. I remember him sitting in his cell, rocking back and forth. He said…he said, _'Dis…Frerin…Thorin…'_." 

Thorin's chest rose with sharp and labored breath. His face contorted with pain and strain. His siblings' name fell off of her tongue, and hit with all the force of forge's hammer. He had spoken little of his sister during the journey, but he knew that he not mentions his brother. The memories attached to that name still to painful to speak. Perhaps even more painful than the ones attached to his father. It was then he remembered the Pale Orc's taunt with clarity, and he felt the rage in his gut flare anew. He leaned against the lip of the tub, using it to support his weight when he felt the weight of his emotions might crush him. 

"Maybe we shouldn't," Elizabeth began, not wishing to get him more upset when he was still so grievously wounded. She went to move away from him, but he grasped her shoulders not allowing her to pull away from him. Instead, he drew her closer until his breath spilled across her face. How small and fragile she felt in his grasp, and even in this moment, he could not stop the sense of satisfaction he felt with that. He took another deep breath, and he straight into her eyes. His eyes were asking what he could not bear to say outloud. 

"His cell was next to mine," Elizabeth understood the silent plea. There was a knot of emotion in her throat, and she struggled to talk over it. "He was…not all there. They had done…horrible things to him and he was barely holding onto what sanity he had left." Tears filled Elizabeth's eyes, and she barely held the back. "I asked him his name, but he didn't remember. It's why I called him Charlie." 

"Charlie?" Thorin inquired, quietly. 

Elizabeth gave him a sad smile. "T'was my father's name." 

Thorin felt something clench in his chest. It was not just his pain that he was reliving, but Elizabeth was reliving hers as well. He hadn't truly appreciate that fact until right now. He felt his anger slip out of him, slowly with each passing second and his hold on her turned into something more gentle. He took a deep, cleansing breath trying to steady his emotions. Elizabeth watched the battle he was going through, and while she had feared his reaction, she did not blame him. She reached up, her hand cupping his jaw softly and she stared at his, her eyes filled with so much sorrow. "He…he was so strong. He fought Azog with everything he had," she whispered, remembering how he fought as Azog sheared off his hair. The sounds of screams, and beads falling against the stone floor. "They…they cut off his hair. I picked up the beads, and gave them back to him before the orcs could steal them." 

A dark rage boiled in the pit of Thorin's stomach. He knew why Azog did not take the beads from Thrain. It was to mock his father, to let him have that little flare of hope before Azog ripped it away at his pleasure. Thorin swallowed down the bile that rose angrily in the back of her throat, and focused his eyes back on Elizabeth. "You weep for him," Thorin spoke, as if astounded him. With the briefest brush of his thumb, he wiped away the tear gently and her eyes flickered to his. He could see the horror and pain reflected with those striking depths. 

"Yes…" Her voice was soft, and quiet. "How can I not? In those shadows…in those dark depths, we shared that hell. We shared that pain, and that suffering. He…helped me survive. He helped me hold on, even when he was had fallen so apart. Together we fought each and day clinging to the hope that one day that the fresh air of freedom would grace our lungs and our limbs would be free of shackles. It is my fault that Thrain never got to have that." She looked down as she made the admission, and a lump to rose in her throat. 

"What do you mean?" Thorin's gaze searched her face, and part of him knew. Knew in the way pain and guilt flashed across her features, the way her eyes lowered from his in attempt to hide from his gaze. He had to hear it be said outloud. 

"Thorin…" 

"Tell me," he urged her, his voice rough. 

Elizabeth looked at him, with a heartbreaking expression. "We escaped. It was a stroke of luck. I used…I used this twisted up nail to kill the orc that came for me that day. He had the cell keys on him. Char…Thrain and I fled. We crept through the shadows, through twist and turns and then we were outside. We were _outside_ ," Elizabeth's voice sounded scraped raw. "We were underneath the open sky. We had our freedom, then…a horn sounded. They knew that we had escaped, and it would be only a matter of minutes before they found us. I led us into the forest, I hoped that many we could lose them in the trees." 

Tears slipped down from her red eyes, and she shook her head. "We were so close," Elizabeth's voice was barely more than a shaky whisper. "But the night betrayed us. I couldn't see where I was going, and…I didn't see the orc with his bow drawn. Not until it was too late. One moment all I knew was Charlie grabbed me, shielding me…and the next moment, he was lying on the ground with an arrow in his back. The orc, dead…the blade Ch—Thrain was using buried in it's chest…" Her voice hoarse and thick as she was bombarded by so many emotions. The most poignant of them all was guilt as she stared straight into Thorin's eyes, and she closed her eyes against the despair written there. "Thorin, you're father…I'm so sorry." 

"Then he is gone," Thorin breathed out. The tiny shred of hope that he clung to like a crying child would to a mother faded away into a mixture of despair and relief. "Just as I always feared." 

Elizabeth felt like her chest was cracking in two as she helplessly watched the turmoil etched upon his face. She shuffled closer to him, and wished to wipe his anguish away. "Tell me how to help," Elizabeth begged, gently. "Just tell me how." 

His eyes briefly flickered closed, and he let out a shuddering breath. When he pulled them open, he stared up at Elizabeth and up into her eyes that were filled with understanding. With trembling hands, Elizabeth reached up and cupped the sides of his face. He let out a gush of air at the feeling of her palms against his beard, and Elizabeth gasped as Thorin's arms sealed around her pulling her towards him. Her fingers grasped the hard lines of his back to anchor herself, holding him close as he buried his face into the crook of her neck and his hot breath spilt across her collarbone. She stood between his thighs, pressed so tightly to him that she could feel the contours of his body through her tunic. 

Elizabeth stood there for a moment, stupefied, and swallowed at the touch. In her original home, Earth, such things as touch were hardly thought as scandalous. A hug to a friend, shaking hands with a stranger, a couple kissing because they wished so. Here in Middle Earth, it just was not done like that. Touch was exclusive to family and lovers, nothing more and nothing less. Though Elizabeth could not fully adopt these customs, she had never been held so desperately as Thorin held her now. 

Thorin did not abide weakness. In the world that he had lived in, had fought for every breath in, weakness could not be allowed. How one woman could unravel him with the truth, Thorin truly realized how dangerous Elizabeth Morgan was to him. And he could not, or would not as it were, change that for the entire world. She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek against the top of his head and he gave no shudder or sob. He was rigid as the stone he was claimed to be carved from, and she gave no murmur when felt the wetness of a few tears against her skin. They were few in number, for Thorin would allow himself to shed no more. 

Touch was a powerful force, making babes thrive and taming the most fractious of women. It did powerful thing for him, too. Having her braced against his chest, his hand held tight against her hips in an effort not to tremble. He drew in her scent, allowing to wrap around him and settle deep in his bones. It would be so easy to allow himself to sink into the comfort she offered, and take more than he should. He knew that she would not accuse him of taking advantage, she was the honorable kind of woman who accepted responsibility for her actions. Yet, it would be taking advantage. Both of their defenses were down, both of them weak in this moment and it would have been easy to fall into the comfort that flesh could offer. 

Dwarves were like stone. Unwavering and strong, but deep inside of Thorin he felt something shake at this revelation. He expelled a deep, his beard raking against the tender skin of her neck and he slowly loosened his grip on her. Shifting back on the edge of the tub, he lifted his blue eyes and his eyes clashed against hers. Her arms slid from around neck, before her hands rested upon his biceps and she stared down at him, sadly. "If I…I realized sooner…If I had managed to all the pieces together and lined them, I would have told you before now. I swear it." 

He stared up at her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. "I know." It was hushed murmur, and if it had no been for the facts that his lips had moved, Elizabeth would barely have caught. He repeated it, his voice stronger, "I know." 

* * *


	23. Ties That Bind Us

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 

"Ties That Bind Us"

* * *

_Dwarves were like stone. Unwavering and strong, but deep inside of Thorin he felt something shake at this revelation. He expelled a deep, his beard raking against the tender skin of her neck and he slowly loosened his grip on her. Shifting back on the edge of the tub, he lifted his blue eyes and his eyes clashed against hers. Her arms slid from around neck, before her hands rested upon his biceps and she stared down at him, sadly. "If I…I realized sooner…If I had managed to all the pieces together and lined them, I would have told you before now. I swear it."_

_He stared up at her for a long moment, his eyes searching hers. "I know." It was hushed murmur, and if it had not been for the facts that his lips had moved, Elizabeth would barely have caught. He repeated it, his voice stronger, "I know."_

Thorin's steely blue gaze stared up at her intensely, and Elizabeth wondered if he knew what he was searching her face for. Part of her was tempted to ask him, but she found her voice struck in her throat. She chewed on her lower lip nervously, her heart still fluttering in her chest. "Can you tell me more about him?" His voice broke the spell that had fallen upon them. The silent moment where they had simply gazed at each other, a searching and slightly lost look about them. There was something desperate here, lingering in the air between them. It was heady and Elizabeth did not know what to do with it. 

Elizabeth retracted herself from Thorin with great reluctance and immediately felt cold as the warmth he provided slipped away from her. The only thing that lingered were her fingers that he quickly clasped between his. "He used to sing…" She drew her thumbs across his scarred knuckles. "There were times when the orcs were out on hunts and we were left alone in our cells, he would sing then. I remember resting my head against the bars, and just listening to him. It was one of those rare moments when we felt a glimmer of respite. I…don't know the words, they were not in my tongue." Her tongue darted out to her parched lips, and her brows furrowed as she tried to capture the words from old, faded memory. "Ô, 'ashgu mala…'abah nizurul…" 

Thorin's lips twitched faintly at the fumbled translation. "Ô, 'azgu malasul 'abad nibzurul," he corrected, quietly. He shifted his hold on her hands, until he could run his thumb against the back of her palms. "Iskhira narid u marub nadadê, Ra muneb id-manl taslami ya 'urs ra shar, Ishira ruk dashshat Durinul." 

Elizabeth let out a huff of air, a shiver running down her spine at the way his native language rolled off his tongue. "Yes, that was it," she whispered out, in recognition. "That was the song he used to sing. Your…language is quite beautiful." 

A grin pulled at his mouth. "So you find my speech pleasin', aye?" he said, a mirthful gleam his blue eyes easing away the shadows gathered in them. 

Elizabeth's cheeks flushed slightly. "Yes, I do. I have no slightest inkling what you were saying, but it was…still very nice." She smiled. Thorin flashed a toothy grin for a brief moment before it slipped back into something more reserved, but she was happy to note that the corners of his mouth were still slightly turned upward. "I should have told you about this earlier. Before now, but I—" She hesitated for a brief moment. "Talking about that time in my life is not…easy. Nor have with another save for my father—Lord Elrond, not Charlie—and even he does not know the full extent of what happened there." 

"You were deal such hardship at such a tender age," Thorin mused, his head tilted to the side. He considered the woman in front rather seriously. "And yet you still hold such optimism facing the world." 

"I don't know if optimism is the right word. I know the dangers out there. I am not blind to them, but I do not allow them to hinder me. I believe that every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don't always soften the blow the bad things can do, but the bad things don't necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant. Whatever our individual trial and tribulations may be, every so often one should take a moment to remember those good things. I cannot lie and say that I always remember to do so, but I try and when I do…it often helps me put things back into prospective." 

"Hmmm." Thorin rose from his languid position and he brushed his thumbs across the back of her hands before he released her allowing her finally to take a step back. He grasped his tunic and pulled it on before he turned to look at her through the veil of his dark hair. "The world would do good to look to you and Bilbo as examples. We are so often focused on the destination of our journeys, that we don't stop to appreciate those that we meet along the path. When we first met…" Thorin caught him, and allowed a ruthful expression to filter across his face. 

"You have your reasons for your suspicions. I have never held that against you," Elizabeth chuckled, slightly. "I may not have been thrilled by it, but I understood it nonetheless." 

Thorin's face softened. "Your compassion does me shame, Miss Morgan," he told her, lightly. He opened the door, and allowed her to walk through first. They moved idly through Beorn's house before Thorin gestured for her to take a seat at a small table. She sat upon one side and he sat upon the other. "The last time we had a chance to talk like this was before the battle with the stone giants." 

"We haven't had to luxury of slowing down since then, have we?" Elizabeth leaned back in the chair, allowing her eyes watch him set up the chess board. "Play this game often?" She said, with her head tilted to the side. 

"Indeed." Thorin rumbled. "My mother taught me when…when I was a child," he stated, the shadows of Erebor and all that he lost in ever present in his eyes. 

"What was she like? Your mother?" Elizabeth wondered. Sometimes, she was startled by how much Thorin allowed her to see of him. She knew that it was not often that he let his guard down, a sentiment that Elizabeth could appreciate which made these moments more special. It made her heart well up so much that she felt that at any given second it would burst right out from her chest. Her fingers delicately moved a pawn two spaces forward. 

Thorin hummed, his blue eyes fixated upon the board. "She was… _fierce_. She was passionate about her beliefs, and took justice very seriously. She made certain that if injustices were to happen in Erebor that they were quickly made right, and there were few that would openly oppose her if ever. She taught me to play many games, telling that by learning them that I could learn to be a better ruler." 

"How so?" Elizabeth's brows arched. 

"Chess teaches in an almost brutal way. You must think before you make a move, or be punished for your thoughtfulness," Thorin said, then as if to emphasize his point took her pawn with his. "Each time I lost a rook or a queen from sheer plunder—I paid for it. My mother taught me the game, and she did not hold back. She said that one could learn from their opponent if they took care enough to watch. You could learn how they move, how they think. Will they play fair? Will they cheat? Will they allow you to win?" 

"A wise lesson indeed," Elizabeth smiled. "Your mother sounded like quite the woman." 

"She was. Sometimes, I am glad that…she did not live to see Erebor's fall. If anything could have destroyed her, I believe it would have been that," Thorin said, quietly and softly. Almost as if he hadn't imagine the words escaped his lips at all, like it had been a thought that he couldn't take back. 

"We don't have to speak about your father, or your mother, or Erebor, if you don't want to," Elizabeth told him, gently. 

"No…" Thorin's gaze flickered up to her. "I did not imagine myself speaking of such things, but they…are easier to speak about with you." 

Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm up, and she looked down at the chess board before she moved the piece across the board. "Your move," she told him, a tad breathless. 

"Indeed," the corner of his mouth twitched upward. The game went onward for nearly an hour, pieces falling off the board as the minutes ticked by until only a handful stood left. "I believe this is longest that we have gone without speaking about the quest," Thorin stated, as he slid his bishop across the board. 

"It is, isn't it?" Elizabeth tilted her head to the side. "This break was one sorely needed. A true moment to stop and catch our breath." 

"Agreed." Thorin smiled before he moved his rook and a small gasp escaped Elizabeth once she realized what he had done. "I believe the game is mine?" He had her king trapped in, with nowhere to go. Thorin was indeed the winner. 

"Cleverly played," Elizabeth toppled her king gentle in a show of gracious defeat. "Your mother taught you well." 

"Thank you kindly for saying so. It has been a long while since I've the luxury of sitting down for a game of chess, and with such a capable opponent as well," Thorin inclined his head, before he relaxed back in his seat. 

"Flatterer," she accused, with a teasing tone. 

"Flattery implies intent to mislead or deceive in the attempt to gain favor through frivolous words. I merely stated the truth," he told her, his voice very matter-of-fact as a smile played along the edges of his lips. "You are a very capable opponent." 

"Opponents now, are we?" Elizabeth drawled. "And here we started getting along so well. If we are to be opponents then which kind shall we be?" 

"Oh, the worst kind," Thorin said, with a deep, rich timber that trembled through every word and sent a shiver down her spine. His eyes glittered, with a thousand words that would be left unsaid as he stared at her from the other side of the table. For a heartbeat, she held her breath certain that he would say more when the doors to the house burst open and the Company came bumbling in. The sun was setting and per Beorn's warning—it was not safe to be outside at night. While Beorn sheltered them, the beast in him did not hold the mind of a civilized man. In the heat of the moment, the bear would not be able to tell them from friend or foe if one was unlucky to cross his path in the dead of night. 

Elizabeth cleared her throat and started arranging the pieces back into their proper place when she glanced up at Thorin. "We should play again, if we have the time before we leave," she stated, a tad more breathless than she realized. 

"We shall," Thorin rose from his chair just as Dwalin swaddled up to them looking like the cat that just ate the canary. 

"And what have you two heathens been doing with all your… _quality_ time together?" He waggled his brow, emphasizing just exactly what he thought they should be doing with their time together. 

"Take care of what you imply, Dwalin," Thorin growled. 

"Me? Imply? I would do nothing of the sort," Dwalin winked at Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth just shook her head with a smile. "I'll have you know that he has been nothing, but the perfect gentleman," she said, before she rose out of the chair and headed. 

"Perfect gentleman? This lout?" Dwalin's question trailed after her, followed by a loud smack and a few words of Khuzdul that Elizabeth had a feeling were less than complimentary about Thorin's lineage. As she came around the corner, she found Bilbo staring at the fireplace—freshly lit by Bifur—with a contemplative expression upon his face. 

"Become one of the boys, I see?" Elizabeth asked, chuckling when the hobbit jumped. "The dwarves have accepted you now with open arms thanks to you bravery upon the hill. A nice feeling—acceptance, isn't it?" 

"I had forgotten what that word truly meant. It is a nice feeling. A sense of belonging…I'm not sure what to make of it honestly. Probably says tragic about me, doesn't it?" Bilbo commented, wryly. 

"Sometimes tragedy helps appreciate the little things. There's no shame in it," Elizabeth said, leaning against the window. She studied the clear night sky, and traced the constellations with her eyes. "I hear that Kili and Fili wanted to teach you how to fight." 

"Dwalin put a quick stop to that, thank the blue sky above," Bilbo sighed, with a paramount of relief. He had feeling that Kili and Fili's lesson would have turned into more of scuffle match than actually fighting—as most things ended up when those two took charge. "He has decided to handle my…training as it is. In hindsight, perhaps Kili and Fili wouldn't have been so bad." Elizabeth sent him a sympathetic smile. 

Bilbo fiddled with his buttons before he released a sigh, and collapsed onto the arm of a nearby chair. A few months ago, he would have been appalled by sitting upon a chair in such a fashion, but such silly sensibilities had long since been lost. "I realize…that there will be more battles to come. It's inevitable on a journey such as this. I just have to wonder…what goes through head in moments like that? In battles? What helps you survive?" 

Elizabeth considered him for a long moment. "It depends on the enemy for me, I suppose. In some battles, I know I have my opponent out maneuvered. I have all the steps planned out, and it's almost like child's play. Those are the easy days," Elizabeth said, her forehead pressed against the cold glance. The faint traces of the day had completely faded from the sky and horizon was dark. "The other times? When I stand against a seemingly impossible enemy, and death seems certain? I tell myself, 'It's them or you. And if it's you, be damn sure to take the bastards with you.'" 

"Well, that's…" Bilbo wasn't sure what to say. 

Elizabeth grinned. "Crude? Perhaps, but it works," she said, crossing her arms lazily in front of her. A silence yawned between them, one that lasted for several moments before she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "I imagine that similar thoughts were racing through you mind when you charged Azog. It's understandable, you know. Your first real battle? It one of the hardest ones you will ever have to face." 

"I am aware of that, believe me," Bilbo grumbled, his eyes cast downward at the floor watching the way the shadows flickered with the motions of the flames. "That night…is one that will haunt me for many years to come. In the battle, all I remember was the anger—at Azog, at myself, and at you." 

"At me?" Elizabeth eyebrows shot upward. Bilbo raised his gaze, and looked at her. It was the first time that she appreciated the weariness that was in his gaze. 

"Yes, at you," Bilbo stated, his voice harsh. More harsher than he had ever heard his voice ever being. "The battle? Yes, that was horrible. Yes, that was terrifying. But you know what was worse? The stone giants. The sound of thunder, the earth quaking, and then you…falling. Did you even stop for _one_ second to think of yourself? A moment of hesitation? No, don't answer that! We both know that the answer is no." 

"Bilbo," Elizabeth said, quietly. 

"I know. I know," he ran an aggravated hand through the curls on his head. "You would have been down on that cliff for anyone of us, but that's not how it happened. You fell off that ledge because of me, and I had no idea how to deal with that. I was not ready to live in a world without my best friend, and you being so annoying selfless…put me into such a place. I did not like it." 

Elizabeth arched a brow. "Am I allowed to speak in my defense, or should I take whatever judgment that you pass out upon me?" She asked, her brows furrowed together. 

Bilbo's face fell. "I—I…" He shook his head, side to side for a long moment. "Elizabeth, I am not trying to pass judgments or take out my frustrations on you. I just…we thought you had _died_. You fell, and you were gone. We _mourned_ for you, and it…it was one of the hardest things I have ever done." 

Elizabeth stood up off of the wall, and crossed the short distance between them then wrapped her arms tightly around him. She held onto him, trying to ease the burden of his pain in some small way. "I understand," she told him, and pulled back to peer down at his face. "When I was down in those depths, I came across the Company's belongings strung across the cavern floors and I had thought something bad had happened. Something had happened, and I hadn't been there to stop it. It was the worst feeling in the world, and I will not begrudge you your anger. Or your pain. That was a night…that pains us all, and I will be here whenever you need someone to lend an ear." 

All the fight seemed to drain out of Bilbo, and his shoulders slumped. "I never have. The existence of your self-preservation perhaps, but the fact you are my friend? Never," the hobbit told her, all the frustration seeping out of his voice. "And never doubt that I am here for you in return." 

"I never have," she parroted his words, with a grin. "Now, I do believe that Beorn's cooks—" 

"You mean sheep," Bilbo snorted. 

"Yes, them. They are preparing a lovely vegetable stew. With the dwarves aversion to such things, you might be able to get extra tonight," Elizabeth said, stirring the hobbit towards the dining room. 

"You think? Oh, I hope they have the honey spread as well. I wonder if I get the recipe…best not, I have the feeling the bees might take offence. They are protective of the honey. I'd rather avoid getting stung," Bilbo sighed, slightly despondent. 

"Wise decision," Elizabeth agreed. 

* * *

Sadly, it seemed that Elizabeth and Thorin's game was not meant to be. After Beorn had warned them of the orcs pacing the outskirts of the forest, it was decided they would leave at day break. An overcast hung over the sky as the Company saddled up the ponies, and Thorin thanked Beorn for the supplies that he had given them. Beorn's reply, "Just be sure to kill more orcs" as if that settled any debt between them, and perhaps in the shapeshifter's eyes it had. 

Elizabeth stroked the pony's mane gently, and was grateful that her loyal stead was safe in Rivendell. She wouldn't want her in the middle of this. A shadow fell over her, and she tipped her head back to see Beorn looming over her. "Thank you for everything, Beorn," she told him, sincerely. "If you are ever in need, then you have my bow at your service." 

Beorn accepted with a nod. "There may be a day I will take you up on that offer, little sprite, but it is a day far from now. For now, allow me to give you a word of warning?" 

"You may," she said. 

"There are many dangers in the forest, but none worse than the path before you. Do not lose sight of your way. The path is never darker than when one's eyes are sealed shut," Beorn told her, his voice holding an ominous rumble. 

"I…will try to heed your warning?" Elizabeth was uncertain how to take Beorn's words, but they left an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something about this day…felt off. There was a staleness in the air, and the gentle warmth that greeted them and offer them shelter was now gone. It was as if the very land knew that something was afoot. Her blood hummed through her veins in such a way that her that made her want to have her bow at the ready. After Beorn gave her his warning, he moved off to speak with Gandalf in severe and hushed tones. 

Dew drop slid off the grass, and a faint mist whirled around their feet. Gandalf nodded, gravely before he mounted his horse and made his way towards the front of the Company. 

"Go now, while you have the light," Beorn bid them, gravely. "The hunters are not far behind." 

The sound of hooves beat against the earth in a thunderous rhythm, and the edge of the great forest came into view. Trees that rivaled the height of the sky stood before them, with bright and colorful leaves. Elizabeth drew the horse to a slow halt; her eyes flickered across the edge of the forest as a frown settled upon her face. The barks of the trees were no longer the pale ashen blue they had been from her memories, but almost jet black. Tangled weeds and dead grass obscured the path from sight; the shadows darker than she remembered. 

Gandalf dismounted, and walked into the edge of the forest through an ancient archway. 

Decaying vines snaked up around the unkempt archway, and the wizard eyes with a dark glance. "The Elven Gate," he spoke loud enough for the others to hear. "Here lies our path through Mirkwood." 

"No sign of the Orcs. We have luck on our side," Dwalin commented, gruffly. He eyed his surrounding with suspicion, and distrust as if an elf might pop with a bow from any given second. 

A warning sensation rushed through the wizard, and he looked back from where they came. He squinted when he spotted something in the distance, but only for a moment was he alarmed. It was Beorn, in his bearform, watched them from a distant ridge. "Set the ponies loose. Let them return to their master." 

Elizabeth nodded, absentmindedly. She slid off her horse, and made her way toward the forest. Her brows drew together, and she drew in a slow breath. "It's not right," Elizabeth wondered out loud. 

"What is not right?" Ori asked. 

"I've been to Mirkwood when I was young," Elizabeth said, her voice soft. "It…was not like this. The grass…is brittle and brown. The path is overgrown, and unguarded. There should be a guard," she turned back around, and looked at Thorin. "King Thranduil would not leave this path unguarded. Something has happened, I'm sure of it." 

"This forest feels…" Bilbo reached her side, and he looked very troubled. His eyes stared unblinkingly at the forest as if he stared long enough that it would divulge its secrets to him. 

"This forest feels…sick, as if a disease lies upon it. Is there no way around?" The hobbit inquired, nervously. 

"Not unless we go two hundred miles north, or twice that distance south," Gandalf followed the path a few feet further into the shadows. He approached a plant covered tree with a curious frown because he saw something underneath it that he couldn't quite make out. 

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at the wizard and missed the glazed look that passed over Bilbo's face. The hobbit's eyes dimmed, and his hand reached into his pocket as if with a mind of its own. After some internal conflict, he slowly pulled out the Ring and twisted between his fingers. There was a roar in his ears that drowned out the world around him. 

As Gandalf approaches the statue, a flash of Galadriel suddenly flared through his mind, and her voice hauntingly echoed into his ears, _"Something moves in the shadows unseen, hidden from our sight. Every day it grows in strength. Beware the Necromancer. He is not what he seems."_

The wizard hesitated for a second, a look of apprehension crossed his features before he yanked the vines back and revealed a painted on eye. Gandalf did not hear the slight gasp that was emitted from Bilbo, his eyes firmly focused on the crude painting. 

_"If our enemy has returned, we must know. Go to the tombs in the mountains,_ " Galadriel's voice came to him and Gandalf nodded in agreement. 

"The High Fells," Gandalf whispered out. "So be it." In a whirling mass of grey robes, Gandalf turned around so abruptly that made Elizabeth visibly startled and took a step back when the wizard past. "Not my horse, Master Nori! I fear I shall need it," he called out to Nori who was about to unsaddle the stead. 

Murmurs of surprise went through the Company, and many alarmed faces turned towards the wizard. Thorin narrowed his eyes, and took a step towards Gandalf. "You're leaving? Now of all times?" 

"I would not do this unless I had to." Gandalf turned away from the dwarf and looked towards Bilbo, who hand dangled into his pocket. The ring about to slip down safely hidden away, but when the wizard looked at him, he froze. 

"You've changed, Bilbo Baggins. You're not the same Hobbit as the one who left the Shire," Gandalf told him, with a quite pride in his face. 

Bilbo felt a gnawing in his belly, and he felt the heavy weight of the ring on him. It was obvious magical. He should have told Gandalf. Why hadn't he told Gandalf? He chewed on his lower lip and looked down. "I was going to tell you; I...found something in the Goblin tunnels." 

"Found what?" Gandalf leaned forward curiously and suspiciously. The hobbit looked a bit ashamed of himself, and the wizard didn't understand why. Bilbo doesn't answer immediately, but fumbled with the ring in his pocket. "What did you find?" 

Bilbo stayed silent for several more seconds, then finally responds. "My courage," the reply somewhat mocked him internally for he was being a coward in that moment. Where was his courage to tell them about what he had found? Where had it fled? He removed his hand from pocket, and cleared his throat. 

"Good. Well, that's good," Gandalf replied, after a moment. "You'll need it." 

Elizabeth eyed Bilbo for a long moment, feeling that something was off with the hobbit. It was as if there was some obvious change, but she couldn't put her finger on exactly had changed within him. Biting the inside of her cheek, she made her way to Gandalf's side just as he mounted the horse. "What has happened, Gandalf?" Elizabeth asked, looking up at him. She had never seen such a darkness move across the wizard's face like that ever before. It made the cold sensation in the pit of her stomach churn violently. 

"Nothing I can speak of. Not here, and not now," the wizard said, his tone hurried and rushed. "I'll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe. Do not enter that mountain without me," he added, with a hard look at Thorin. "This is not the Greenwood of old. The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray. Elizabeth, you've walked this path before. Try to remember it, and do not let them leave it." 

"I will do my best," she promised, lightly. 

"Lead us astray? What does that mean?" Bilbo asked Bofur. 

"Don't look at me. I'm not a wizard," Bofur shrugged, just as confused as the hobbit. 

Rain splattered across Elizabeth's face drawing a gasp from, and she looked up to see the clouds getting darker with each passing second. 

"You must stay on the path; do not leave it! If you do, you will never find it again! No matter what may come, stay on the path," was Gandalf's warning before he rode away. It rang through Elizabeth's mind with a condemning echo, and she faced the forest with renewed dread. The wind stirred the leaves upon the ground, and a sinister whisper came from somewhere deep in the woods as if daring Elizabeth to take a step in. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References and Languages:  
> Beorn's Origins: If you have the Extended Edition of the Desolation of Smaug then you will know, if not then it is a little treat. Tolkien derived, in part, from Beowulf. The name Beowulf means "Wulf of the Bees" and the wolf of the bees is a bear.  
> "Thrain's Song": It is "I See Fire" by Ed Sheeran that has been translated into khuzdul. You can find it on the internet.


	24. Into the Forest Deep

Chapter Twenty-Four 

"Into the Forest Deep" 

* * *

THEN

The forest was quiet and peaceful. 

Light filtered in through the branches above while Elizabeth sat in the garden, fiddling with the hem of the dress that was slightly too big for her. The elves of Mirkwood had been overly enthusiastic in greeting her. Even though, she was in her earlier adulthood the elves still saw her as a child. Sometimes, elves were an oddity that she was sure she was never going to be able to fully grasp. Elizabeth stared at the grand garden with ethereal statues that were made from trees, or perhaps the trees had grown into statues. There was something all mystical about it all, and yet she longed for the simpler garden of Rivendell. It's familiarity had always been welcoming to her. 

"Lady Aldanniel," a voice behind her startled her. 

She whirled around, eyes wide and they widened even further upon seeing the Prince of Mirkwood standing behind her. She gaped for several seconds before she managed to get her wits about her, a fact that she was grateful that Legolas chose not to mention. "Prince Legolas," Elizabeth inclined her head politely and curtsied like Arwen had taught her to do. As a ward of Elrond's, she represented Rivendell and would endeavor to make a good impression. If she could, that was. Nothing she had seen could break the King's aloof and intimidating façade. 

He was tall as a young tree, lithe, immensely strong, able swiftly to draw a great war-bow and shoot down an enemy in the blink of eye. He had a youthfulness to him, youngest amongst the elven and his hair was as golden as the sun while his eyes were like the bluest skies. "I see you found our gardens," Prince Legolas commented, hands behind his back. He was obviously on his best behavior as well, she supposed. "How are finding them?" 

"Words cannot do them justice, your majesty," Elizabeth said, politely. "Arwen said they were a sight to behold. I must admit I did not quite understand that meant until now." 

"There is no need for titles, unless you really prefer to be called the Thane of Rivendell?" Legolas arched an eyebrow then laughed when he saw her nose wrinkle. 

"I suppose not," Elizabeth admitted. "Then what I am to call you, if not by your title?" 

"My given name is a good place to start," Legolas assured her, a slight quirk of his lips. "Perhaps in time, you will feel free enough to call me friend." 

Elizabeth felt the tension that lingered along her spine ease up, and she tilted her head to the side, looking up at him curiously. "Perhaps," she said, her eyes narrowed in bemusement. "And what would this friendship entail?" 

Before Legolas could reply, a voice asked, "Making friends?" 

Elizabeth turned and saw the guardswoman, Tauriel, who had looked as if they she had happened upon them. Though Elizabeth had no doubt that the red head had been there all along. Tauriel was tall, angelic with hair as fiery as the blazing flame that spanned halfway down her back. Her eyes were green with flecks of hazel, and held an easily missed spark of mischief in them. She walked down the stairs, each movement graceful like a grazing deer. Her armor was the traditional green, crafted to make it look like the elves were part of the forest around and in many ways that was true. She looked between them, her eyebrow rose while a slight smirk curled at the edge of her lips. "What are you planning?" Tauriel asked, knowing Legolas far too well. 

"Trouble," Legolas said, his face completely innocent. 

Elizabeth's face broke into her first smile. Perhaps, the Greenwoods would not be so bad after all. 

* * *

NOW

The forest was dark and deep. 

It was not merely the shadows that gave it that feel as if around each corner, Elizabeth found herself staring at an endless abyss of trees and woods. The branches and limbs above them allowed no light, giving a feel of an eternal night and there was a heaviness that weighed upon her shoulders. A tiredness that tried to lure her into closing her eyes, and fall into oblivion. Every ache and every vice was made worse by their surroundings. This was a far cry from the Mirkwood she had once known. Back then, she had felt a hint of unease, but it was easily forgotten behind the wonder she had found in the woods. She had not been able to dwell on it. 

Now, it was everywhere. There was no escaping the darkness that laid here. Something dark and twisted had taken root into the woods. It was worrisome that no word of such a thing had circulated around. The woods had their dangers; it was wild and untamable, of course there was danger. This was something else entirely. Had the King of the Forest's pride kept him from sending word? As a warning or for aid? Elizabeth frowned thoughtfully. Why hadn't Legolas or Tauriel sent word to her? She had not been worried about the lack of letters for Elizabeth traveled a great deal, and it was hard for couriers to track her down. Now, a sliver of dread knotted up in her throat. 

What if something had happened to them? She could barely stand the thought. It opened a floodgate of doubt inside of her that was not so easily dismissed. 

"Come on. We must reach the mountain before Durin's Day," Thorin spoke, sharply. He raked a gaze on the forest around them, and his hand tightened around the pommel of his sword. Even though he was far from a child of the green forest, he felt something sinister stir in front of them. Taunting, and twisting. Like movement out of the corner of his eyes that he could quite catch sight of. It was a maddening sensation. 

"Thorin…" Balin frowned, worriedly. 

Thorin did not have to hear the words, he could see the question clearly in Balin's eyes. "This is our one chance to find the hidden door," he breathed out, lowly and underneath his breath. 

"There is no other way, Balin. This is our only path." 

The paved path was broken, uprooted by the earth beneath it and nearly covered over it weeds that snaked about wildly and out of control. Elizabeth took great pains to watch every step that she made in order not to fall. Her bow was dangling between her fingers, and she twisted it every other second nervously. 

"You've been to Mirkwood before, Elizabeth?" Kili asked, for he wished to fill the silence. He did not silence, and no one so dark and dreary as the one that pressed in on them here. 

"When I was younger, yes," Elizabeth replied, her voice strained. Each breath didn't feel like enough, the air heavy and stale. Sweat rolled down her forehead, and to the tip of her nose. "But it was not like this. The forest was not this…" She didn't have words sufficient to describe the change that she saw in this forest. Where the once mighty trees stood proud and green, ever resist to the hands of time imbued with the magic of the elves, the bark had lost its silvery hue and had turned a dull grey. Mold and dark vines had ensnared its roots, desperately to choke the life out of the trees. 

"I imagine it was _greener_ and full _elves,_ " Gloin grumbled, underneath his breath. "A different nightmare than this, but still a nightmare." 

Elizabeth let out a light laugh, but shook her head. She cast a look around the forest and the group surrounding her. "Well, if it is a nightmare we face, then I can think of no better company to face it with," she told Gloin, with a half smile. 

"Aye, that is true, lass," Gloin nodded, proudly. 

Trailing at the end of the group, Bilbo worriedly fiddled with the remaining button on his waistcoat. Sometimes, he wanted to rip it right off, but the sensible side of him clung to like it was lifeline. His eyes flickered around the forest, and his Adam's apple bobbed. The sickness in the forest was only worst the further along they got into the forest. 

"Ah. Yep. Lot of tension around here," Dwalin growled, his axe had not left his hand once since they had entered the forest. He walked, poised for any surprise attack as he fell into step alongside of Bilbo. 

"More than a little," Bilbo said. He could only describe it as feeling as if there were eyes upon them, watching them from somewhere unseen in the trees. 

"Know what I do to relieve tension?" Dwalin commented. 

"I hesitate…to wonder," Bilbo said, with a slight pause. He wasn't sure if he wanted an answer to that question or not. But one thing was for certain: Dwalin must truly feel on edge, the hobbit thought, if he was trying to fill the silence with chatter. The dwarf was not one for chatter. "I polish the ol' weapon." 

Bilbo tripped over a root before he managed to get his footing once more, and he shot Dwalin a wide eyed look like he could not believe what he just heard. 

"Yep. Give it a good shine. With a dry rag, then with a little grease," Dwalin continued onward. 

"Th-that's disgusting," Bilbo sputtered, his face heating up like a furnace. Dwalin arched a brow. "You're telling me you never gave yer blade the old spit-shine?" He looked at the hobbit strangely. 

"I…I think that kind of m-matter is private," Bilbo said, with a slight sniff. Honestly, did dwarves have no sense of boundaries? To speak of such things in a time and place like this. 

"Really? Sodding Shire and its rules. I like to do it right out in the open," Dwalin stated, with a roll of his shoulders and he stepped carefully over a root. 

Bilbo blanched. _"Where people can see you?"_ He hissed underneath his breath, feeling utterly mortified. By him or for him, Bilbo did not know nor did he want to think on it any longer. 

"Yep," Dwalin nodded. 

Bilbo studied the bulky dwarf through narrowed eyes, and after a few moments, he dared to ask, "Wait, what are you talking about?" 

Dwalin raised an eyebrow and shot the hobbit a slightly confused glance out of the corner of his eye. "I was talking about polishing my weapons with oil then sharpening with a whet stone. What are you talking about?" He shot back the question at the hobbit. 

Bilbo felt incredibly foolish, and horrible embarrassed. If the forest did not feel so wrong and sick, he almost wished that it would swallow him whole. "I…I can't possibly imagine," he replied, lamely. 

Dwalin's brows furrowed as he watched the hobbit scurry ahead, then comprehension dawn on him. He let a bark of laughter, and said, "Well, Mr. Baggins, I dinnae think you had it in you." If anything, Bilbo hurried even faster to get away, much to Dwalin's amusement. 

The path through the forest twisted, and turned over all sorts of terrain such as bare ground, high hedges, fallen tree trunks, and Elizabeth did not recall the path being such a maze. _It was almost as if the forest was trying to get them lost,_ the thought made her blood turn cold and once she thought, it would not go away. There was something utterly familiar about the darkness that seeped out of the forest, like a little itch in the back of her mind. 

Fili thumped the tip of his sword on the ground to find the paving stones of the trail. After a few moments, he nodded to Thorin. "This is the way," the golden haired dwarf assured them. 

Thorin nodded, sharply and ordered the others to start moving again. His blue eyes watched all the dwarves as they passed, and then fell on Elizabeth. Her face was completely blanched off all color, and her eyes were wide. There was no hiding the struggle against the fear there. He reached out as she passed, his hand on her shoulder to halt her. 

She jolted, her eyes snapped upward to meet his. She studied his face and the silent question lingering there before she reached up covering his hand with hers. She squeezed slightly, and gave him the best smile she could muster up. He didn't look particularly convinced, but he relented with a slight nod. And so on the path they continued. 

* * *

Gollum was driven mad. 

A different kind of madness than what his precious had done to him, as the orcs tortured him. They stretched and pulled, while they cackled. They burnt, and bruised. They left him to starve, to rot, and only gave enough to keep him from the brink of death. Though Gollum was far from the hobbit he once had been, the Smeagol part of him broke underneath the horrific things that were done to him. 

He screamed, "BAGGINSES! BAGGINSES!" 

And the Pale Orc smiled. 

* * *

The Company shouldered the heavy packs, filled with what Beorn could spare in food that would last them the next two weeks, and the water-skin which was their share. They walked in single file reminding Elizabeth of her grade school days where they would line up to go outside. She rubbed her forehead, then dragged her palm down her face. Her thoughts felt fuzzy, muddled, and she shoved the ivy causing its blacken leaves to fall to the ground. Elizabeth paused, watching them fall in slow motion and they hit the ground with a sound that was too loud. 

"Is it night? Or is still day?" Kili wondered, outloud. 

No one could answer him. The branches above were now too thick to get any sense of what laid beyond them. It was almost like they were stumbling underground, no—the dwarves would still have some sense in the darkness of the earth. Here, they were completely blind led by Thorin and Fili tapping their swords against the stone path to make sure it was still there. 

The quiet pressed in on them, and she heard Bilbo behind her ask, "Shouldn’t there be noise? Where are the animals? The crickets?" 

"Perhaps they got tired of elves as their only company," Bofur joked, loftily. "And ran away." 

A few laughed. 

"There are squirrels, or there were back from where we came from," Elizabeth said, but she had noticed that she hadn't spotted one since. Not even a light scuffle of an animal, or a chirp from a bird. No, wait—that was entirely true. She could hear some kind of shift and scuffling from underneath the leaves that lay piled endlessly thick in places on the forest-floor. Her eyes narrowed, trying to trace the noise with her eyes which was a useless endeavor, and she palm placed on a nearby tree to steady her when she let out a yelp. 

"What? What is it?" Oin demanded. 

"Spiderwebs," Elizabeth grimaced, pulling her hand back. A shudder ran down her spine as she attempted to wipe the cobwebs off the palm of her hand, but it was difficult. They were extraordinarily thick and dense. She could make out the silvery shimmer just barely above them of great webs extending from tree to tree, or tangled in the lower branches. Thankfully, though, no such webs covered the path. Perhaps magic protected it, but Elizabeth couldn't be certain. "Though I do not think they are from any ordinary spiders." 

"What does that mean?" Ori may have squeaked. 

"Along the southern border of Mirkwood, the elves have beaten back horrible creatures for nearly a century. Giant spiders, descendants of the foul and dreadful Ungoliant," Elizabeth said, a cold chill flicked down her back and she jerked her head sharply to get rid of it. She had no problem with spiders, given they were no bigger than her hand. She had no desire to meet beasts such as the ones who had constructed these webs. "It would be most wise to move on, and camp in an area…less infested?" 

Thorin caught her eyes, the eyes of dwarves faired better in such darkness than a child of man's. "Sound advice," he acknowledged, urging the dwarves to start moving again. 

Elizabeth flashed him a smile. "I try." 

* * *

After long last, they decided to make camp on the path where the cobwebs were less thick above them, but no less worrying. Elizabeth stared up at the black abyss above them, and longed for some glimmer of moonlight to come forth. There was nothing, but the dark. There was no air, choking and stuffy, making it hard to breath. 

Bombur went about to make a fire with the help of Dori, all of them wishing for an end to the bleak blackness. However, as soon as the fire was lit, it seemed to bring hundreds and hundreds of eyes all round them. 

"That's a lot of eyes," Nori said, slowly. 

Whatever these creatures were careful not to let their bodies be brought to life which only made the sight of them all that more threatening. That should have been the worst of it, but no, it was not. A flapping sound emerged from the silence, and soon the Company found themselves surrounded by moths that were easily the sizes of bats. They gathered around the light, and then attacked everyone. One even tried to crawl into Balin's ear, the poor dwarf. 

Elizabeth may have yelped when one swarmed towards her face, and she slapped it away. The sight would have been comical if not for the fact the were in a forest and surrounded by unknown danger. 

Thorin had let out a frustrated growl, and put out the fire hastily. As soon it all went dark, the moths lost interest in them and soon fluttered away, much to everyone's relief. 

"We should sleep huddled together," Dori suggested, his voice wavering. He clutched Ori tighter to him, and took comfort in the fact that Nori stood behind him. "That way nothing unpleasant can't drag us off into the night." 

"And the chances of something pleasant dragging us off into the night is…?" Kili questioned, only to have Fili elbow him in the ribs. 

"Dori is right. There is safety in numbers," Balin said, trailed his fingers trailed through his beard. His eyes flickered around the forest warily. 

Thorin sighed, heavily. He was not unaware of the yellow or red or green eyes that stared at them from a distance, his hackles raised every time he caught sight of a pair. But Gandalf's warning rang inside his mind. They could not leave the path to confront whatever danger was out there. "Very well," he agreed, gruffly. "Fili and I will take first watch. Dwalin and Dori will take second watch. Kili and Nori will take third, and then we move out." 

Elizabeth swallowed, her throat hurting. She carefully shuffled towards where Thorin stood, and she reached out. Her hand rested on his forearm, and she felt him twist towards her. "I can take a watch," she told him, her tongue felt too big for her mouth. Her mouth felt too dry, like she had stuffed it full of cotton. "Arrows can take out many enemies before they are close enough to fell with a sword, and give plenty of time to warn the Company." 

"I have no doubt of your capabilities," said Thorin, his voice pitched low for her ears only. 

"Nor your aim, but the forest has overwhelmed you. Do not deny it," he stated, sharply as if he could sense the protest about to fall from her lips. "It has affected us all, but none so much as you and the hobbit." 

"I…cannot disagree," Elizabeth admitted, a bit ashamed. The forest was like a disease that had seeped deep into her bones, and it had only been a day. The thought of being here for two weeks was daunting. "But I will not allow myself to falter. I will earn my keep in this Company." 

"You already have," there was a slight smile on his face. His thumb brushed across her knuckles, a quick gesture of comfort. "Dwarves eyesight are better in the dark. Now, go and rest while you can. I fear that such a thing will be scarce in this… _place_." 

Her lips reluctantly twitched into a smile because he spoke the word as if it were a curse. _For good reason_ , she thought, gnawing on her lower lip. "Alright. I will heed your words. Don't get smug about it," she warned him, teasingly. "There'll be no living with you." It was worth it to hear his quick, rough laugh. It was still one of the beautiful sounds that Elizabeth had ever heard, and she would make an effort to hear it more often. 

* * *

Bilbo couldn't sleep, not really. He would have brief moments when it surrounded him, only to jolt awake when he heard a noise that was not from the Company. Even the loud snores from Gloin and Bombur seemed quiet as if they were unconsciously trying to be quiet they slept. He did not blame them, he thought with a shudder down his spine. _Insect eyes. Bulbous and all too large,_ he thought, biting back a hysterical and panicked laugh. He remembered Elizabeth commenting on giant spiders, and he remembered watching a fly that caught in a spider web. He remembered watching the spider slink out of its hole, and how it wrapped them up then how it devoured them. 

Bile burned the back of his throat, and he tried to close his eyes. To force the image from his mind, but he could not. Not when the sickness of the forest pressed in upon him. Dug into him like children's greedy fingers into sweets, Bilbo groaned softly. There would be no sleep. The dwarves could sleep practically through it, but the hobbit could not. He sighed, feeling Bofur's foot in his back. He had to keep his lips firmly shut or he would end up breathing in Kili's hair, and he had no such desire to do so. 

He clenched his eyes tightly shut. _Don't think about it. Don't think about it,_ he thought to himself, forcing to take deep and measured breath through his nose. He finally managed to be lulled into sleep, but he never noticed that his hand had dipped into his pocket. The ring clutched tightly in between his fingers. 

* * *

Elizabeth was on the edge of sleep. Where her body was just a breath from tree rest, and her mind clumsily wandered. She had opted to sleep at the edge of the group, to be one of the first alerted to trouble. She could feel the disapproval come off of Thorin and Dwalin in waves, but neither said anything. When second watch came around, Fili asked if she could move over so he could be by his brother. She nodded tiredly, and wiggled over to give him enough room when her forehead hit armor. She blinked her bleary eyes, but to no avail. 

Her eyes were practically useless in this kind of darkness. She breathed in deeply, the salty musk, a smell that tugged on her memory, surrounded her. Her brows scrunched together, and carefully reached out. She jumped slightly, when her hand came in contact with the beard. She knew that beard. After a moment, she asked, her words sloppy with exhaustion, "Thorin?" 

"It is I," Thorin's voice rumbled, his hot breath spilling across the crown of her forehead. 

"Oh," she slumped against the thin bedroll. "Nice to know I wasn't groping some other poor dwarf's beard." 

With her head pressed against what she assumed was his chest, she could feel the ghost of a laugh that passed through him. A slight, quick rumble before he stilled. "Are you still unwell?" he asked gruffly, frowning with concern. 

"Merely restless," she whispered, feeling his hand ghost just an inch from hers. The urge to put her hand in his, to seek comfort in his closeness pounded in her blood and she let a heavy sigh. "The forest was not like this before. I felt a…tremble of unease before, but this…is like a blight. It is like a taint spreading, threatening to swallow everything in darkness." 

"You are worried." 

Elizabeth didn't say anything right away. "Yes," she admitted, quietly. She shifted, tilting her head back until she was sure her face was pointed in the general direction of his. Her eyes were half open, and kept fluttering closed even though she was desperately trying to keep them open. "There's something not right with this forest. It feels like…" She bit her lower lip, and she brushed her hair out of her face. She didn't want to share her suspicions. He already had so much weighing on him, and she felt that this would only add to his troubles. 

"It feels like what?" He asked, a frown in his voice. 

Elizabeth hesitated. 

"If you have a concern, I would have you speak you mind," Thorin told her, shifting slightly upon the ground. His blue eyes could make out the worry on her face, and the way she slightly drew in on herself. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, a little habit that he couldn't help to notice of hers before she released a sigh. 

"You'll come to regret that, I promise you," she told him, a humorless chuckle sliding past her lips. She allowed her eyes to close, they were too heavy to keep open any longer. "This forest is wrong. Bilbo feels it, I feel it, the entire company feels it. There is a shadow here, and I haven't felt something like this since I was a child." 

Thorin was silent, weighing her words. His breath splayed across her cheek, and not for the first time, Elizabeth wondered just how close their faces truly were. There were so very close, the heat from his body fighting off the chill that the night brought and if she were anymore alert than she wouldn't have moved forward to snuggle. Honestly, in some cultures they would be considered betrothed by being so indecently close. As it was, she was too drained to resist the allure of warmth nor the way that his scent seemed to help ease the tension right out of her limbs. 

"You believe it is the same darkness," Thorin stated, his lips twisted down into a frown. His blue eyes searched her face and he watched the struggle of confusion upon her face. 

"I…I don't know," she said, with a small shake of her head. "It couldn't possibly thought, could it?" Elizabeth rested her cheek into the crook of her arm. Her fingers tips nestled into the strands of his hair that laid upon the ground. "I already have too many ghosts chasing me as it is. I do not like the thought of another…" Her voice faded as her chest rose with a deep, even breaths. 

Thorin arched a brow when he realized that she had truly fallen asleep, but even as she slept, there was something distressed in her expression where it should be peaceful. His hand reached up, his fingertips ghosted across her temple and down his cheek before sliding down towards her lips. He retracted his fingers back quickly as burned. Now was not the time to be having such thoughts, nor was it proper to touch in such a manner. He was reluctant to acknowledge the growing feelings he had for this woman laying beside him, and yet they had grown stronger with each passing day. Each word, each look seemed to bind them tighter together and he finding it harder and harder to regret it. He twisted his gaze away from her face to look at the forest with one last glare before he tried to close his eyes. There was something about this forest that seemed to want to choke the life from everything within it. He would feel more at ease when they were out of this forest, and hopefully without garnering the attention of the elves. 

* * *

Elizabeth stared at the creek. The water was clear dark almost pitch black and yet she detected a faint smell faintly of sulfur. A mysterious fog however over the water, making the other side barely visible. There was brief moments where the water would clear up for the briefest of moment as if the water was trying to fight against whatever taint was there, but it soon turned murky once more. It had been nearly a week since they first arrived in this forest, and Elizabeth felt a madness slink along the edges of her mind. A flash of Thrain's face—his eyes wide and wild—went through her mind, and she swallowed thickly. 

The food would not last forever. Kili and her had tried their hand at shooting whatever squirrels scurried by, but even if they hit one it was too far from the path. After the fourth, they decided not to waste their arrows anymore. "So," Kili said, conversationally, "does anyone how we are to get across?" 

Elizabeth raised her gaze from the water to the path that laid upon the other side. The bridge had been broken and destroyed. It was intentional that much was obvious, but the reasoning behind it was lost to her. Was to keep something out? Or to keep something in? 

"These vines look sturdy enough," Bofur suggested, tapping on with his weapon. 

"You're joking," Bilbo shot him a look. "Surely, you are joking." 

Hanging from the trees were thick vines, from one side of the creek to the other. It might be possible to cross them, but it would not be the safest course of action. "I do not think that wise," Elizabeth commented, slowly. "You heard what Beorn said. We have to avoid the water. What happens if we try to climb across the vines only to fall in?" 

"The lass is right," Balin cut in as the voice of reason. "It's too dangerous. We must find another way to cross." 

Fili frowned, his eyes narrowed against the fog to make out a shape just on the other side of the bank. "What is that?" He asked. 

"What is what?" Dwalin tossed him a look. 

"That," he pointed at the shadow. 

Bilbo leaned forward, almost letting out a laugh when Elizabeth grabbed the back of his collar just in case, and his stared hard at the shape. After several blinks, the shape became clearer and Bilbo's heart jumped for joy. "It's a boat! There is a boat against the far bank!" 

"How far away do you think it is?" asked Thorin, for by now they knew Bilbo had some of the sharpest eyes among them. 

"Not at all far. No more than twelve yards," said Bilbo. 

"Twelve is not far. Still twelve yards is as good as a mile with this dark water before us. We can't jump it, and we daren't try to wade of swim," Thorin grumbled, his brows knotted together thoughtfully. 

"Is the boat tied up, Bilbo?" Elizabeth asked, the fog too thick for her to make out the details of the boat. "If it is not, we may be able to pull it over to this side." 

"I don't believe it is tied," said Bilbo, scrutinizing the boat for a long moment. "Though of course I can't be sure in this light; but it looks to me as if it was just drawn up on the bank, which is low just there where the path goes down into the water." 

"Do we have any rope?" Thorin immediately questioned. 

"I do," Nori offered it up. 

"Why in Mahal's golden halls do you have rope?" Dori asked, his hands on his hips and glared at his thief of a brother. 

"You never know when a good rope could be needed," was all that Nori would say on the subject, but he had a wicked grin on his lips. 

Dori made a disgusted noise. 

"Kili? Elizabeth?" Thorin now looked to the two archers in the group as Dwalin tied the rope to the end of an arrow. "Which of you can take the shot?" 

Elizabeth frowned. "If circumstances were normal, I would say that I could make the shot with ease. But the darkness of this place assaults my vision and has weakened me," she said, with a grimace. It was like cold that she could shake, no matter how hard she tried. She could tell the Company was worried, but they could not slow their pace. "I believe it is for the best if Kili takes the shot." 

"Kili?" Thorin looked at his nephew. 

Kili stood taller underneath his uncle's gaze, and nodded. "I can do it," he spoke, his tone very serious. He wanted very much to prove himself to Thorin so his uncle would take him as serious as he did Fili. 

Kili stared a long while to get an idea of the direction, and Thorin handed him the arrow. Kili took this in his hand, balanced it for a moment. He needed to feel the extra weigh the rope brought to the arrow, so he knew how far back to pull the bow. Once he was satisfied, Kili drew the arrow back and allowed it to launch. 

It just flew right of the bow, and fell with a heavy splash into the water. Kili let out a curse then flushed when his uncle gave him a look. "Fili taught me it," he declared, quickly. 

"I did not!" Fili denied, though his pink cheeks gave him away. 

Dwalin rolled his eyes, and pulled the rope back towards them. The arrow had been lost in the bank, the tip of it just stick up out of the water’s edge. Setting up another arrow, Kili drew it back and took in a deep breath. 

"You have this, Kili," Thorin told him. 

Feeling empowered by his uncle's faith, Kili's lips pressed together and the bow's stringed creaked underneath the pressure. His muscles ached with how long he held himself still, and then he let go. The arrows soared through the air, and instead of splash, a loud thunk was heard. 

"You did it, Kili!" Fili clapped him on the back. 

Kili beamed and Thorin gave him a quick, proud smile. Dwalin and Dori stepped up, and with their combined efforts that they could pull the boat over to this side of the shore. Triumphant shouts went all through the up all around, and Elizabeth couldn't stop the wide smile that stretched across her face. Of course, they couldn't celebrate for long and were soon back to business. 

"Who'll cross first?" asked Ori. 

"Bilbo will," said Thorin, "and Kili will go with him. That's as many as the boat will hold at a time. Fili and Elizabeth will go next. Dwalin and Balin will be next. Oin and Gloin; next Nori, and Ori. Bifur and Bofur…" 

"I don't want to be last," said Bombur, suddenly. He hated this forest, and he didn't want to be one of the last ones left on this side to deal whatever is lurking behind them in the forest if decided to get the guts enough to attack. "I don't want to be by myself." 

"You must be with the last and lightest boatload," Thorin told him, sternly. 

"I will go with him," Elizabeth offered. 

Thorin gave her a look—a dark, indecipherable flash through his eyes—and his mouth opened with no doubt a harshly worded protest. 

"I am the lightest out of all of us, Thorin," Elizabeth said, stubbornly. "It makes sense that I go in the boat with Bombur. No matter how much you wish otherwise." 

Her cheeky response only made his glower darken into outright scowl, and if she didn't know it was borne out of concern for her, she might have been intimidated. 

"You dinnae have to do that," Bombur said, a might guilty. 

"It is no hardship, Bombur," she told him, with a smile. She understood that being the largest of the group sometimes put him in such positions as this, and she understood the fear of being left behind. "You are my friend. I will always be there for a friend." 

Bombur looked flustered at being called her friend. Friendships for dwarvens is hard won, but once won it was harder to destroy than anything else in the world. "I…thank you, lassie," Bombur said, humbled. 

As Bilbo and Kili got into the boat, Thorin approached Elizabeth with furious strides and he stopped only when he was leaning down towards her face. "I do not like this," Thorin told her, with a slight hint of a growl in his voice and one of his hands encircled her right bicep. 

"I do not think there is much about traveling through this forest that you like, Thorin," said Elizabeth, biting the inside of her cheek. She was not a fool. She knew he did not speak of the forest, and she knew that he wanted her to be one of the first to get across the creek in case something happened. 

"That is not what I meant and you know it," Thorin stated, testily. His blue eyes were glinted with frustration, and his lips formed a thin line of disapproval. He was giving her one of his trademark intense stares that did funny things to her stomach that she couldn't afford to think of right now. 

Elizabeth tilted her head, a slightly sad looked entered her eyes. "So many worries you carry on your shoulders. If you keep walking with all that weight on your shoulders, then you'll end up with a limp." 

"A leader is never without burdens," Thorin countered, his hand on her tightening ever so slightly. "And still not an answer." 

Elizabeth gave him a willful look for a half a second before letting out a sigh. "We have to rely on each other to get through this forest," she told him, her eyes flickered to the others as they pulled back the boat after its successful trip to the other side. Her hand moved up automatically, her fingers sliding across his coarse beard and she felt his jaw clenched. "Riding in the last boat with Bombur is hardly a sacrifice." 

Kili made a noise, almost like a dying cat. 

Elizabeth shot him a look to see both Kili and Fili gaping at her then she realized exactly where her hand was. With a light gasp, she pulled her hand back realizing the liberty she had taken with Thorin. "I-I, um, will see you on the other side, yes?" She stammered through that sentences, with her cheeks burning bright red. 

Thorin looked at her, eyes piercing. It was hard not to get lost in those eyes filled with such fire and raw passion, a drive and determination that few could rival. An argument formed upon those lips, but he held it back with a grind of his teeth. He released her arm with great reluctant, and his gaze shuttered. "Very well," he told her, his voice toneless. He turned away from her, and she watched him walk away with only a tiny bit of guilt in her chest. 

_He was a beautiful sight_ , Elizabeth thought before she could help herself. Her stomach clenched and unclenched, not unpleasantly so. Letting out a deep breath, she watched as two by two the Company crossed the creek. Until none stood, except her and Bombur. Bombur got into the boat first, and Elizabeth carefully followed. As they rowed across, the fog wrapped around them and Elizabeth felt very light headed all of the sudden. Her eyes felt heavy and she swayed. The oar slipped slightly and hit the side of the boat. She jerked, and she saw Bombur look at her with a rather alarmed expression. "I'm fine. I'm fine," she said, quickly and with a good shake of her head. 

While the pair continued to row across the creek, Bilbo stood nervously on the other side. The longer they were in this blasted forest, the less he cared for it which was saying a lot since hobbits were so fond of nature and green things. There was nothing natural about the state of this forest. Bilbo was certain there was nothing beautiful in this forest, and then…something proved him wrong. 

A startled gasp tore through his lips, his eyes widened as in a nearby clearing a white stag stood in the sunlight that poured out of the first break in the trees up above since they entered this forest. He remembered his mother telling him that a white stag crossing your path was a sign of good fortune to come. However to kill one or even to attempt to kill one would be a bringer of bad luck. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement and he saw Kili drawing back his bow. "You shouldn't…" Bilbo tried to tell him, but Kili launched the arrow. 

It missed, and the stag immediately fled. 

"You shouldn't have done that," Bilbo said, finding his voice. He understood where the young dwarf's mind had been. Food was scarce, they were down to their last resources and the deer would have fed them well. But Bilbo couldn't let go of that old superstition. "It's bad luck." 

"Dwarves do not believe in luck, Master Bilbo," Thorin told him, brusquely. 

“Oin does,” Bofur interjected, helpfully. 

“Bah!” Oin reply came. 

Before they could dissolve into an argument, shouts came. 

"BOMBUR!" 

"Lassie, don't!" 

And then there was a loud splash. 

Someone had fallen into the water. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next four chapters will be posted tomorrow. :D
> 
> 1.) Ungoliant (Sindarin IPA: [uŋ'goljant] - "Dark Spider") was a primordial being in the shape of a gigantic spider. She was initially an ally of Melkor in Aman, and for a short time in Middle-earth as well. She is the mother of Shelob, and therefore the oldest, and first spider of the south, maybe even the first spider.


	25. So Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR SUPPORT! GLAD YOU ALL LIKE THE FIC! :D I didn't have a song that really inspired this fic, but if you have one you'd like to recommend, let me know. :D  
> Thank you Sayomi_Night, 0102and03, LRazz, love112love, Direhart, alien94, Ayyyeee, GrammarGrrrl, Catann, moon_goddess_118, sweetsgal, Dusk_Lilly, earedien, kalin128, annievogel90, greasergirlalex, Starkid_Impala015, Just4Me, mehg11, EbonyLeijon, edelweissmaia, DanteOphydian, RegalMagnus, fairykia, Elashor_Seger, Dances_With_Vulcans, candy_hearts, i11iad, AgentLilyAEvans, KaityC1999 and hwinde and the 67 guests that left kudos! :D  
> Thank you, Lmd_dk, PhoenixFire0427, AloraKast, mdowney3, Catann, Avendia, Rosethebookwurm, Aryannaoakenshield, idrilcelebrindal, Dusk_Lilly, Starkid_Impala015, AgentLilyAEvans, candy_hearts, i11iad for the bookmarks!  
> I want to thank GrammarGrrl and Emrfangirl for the comments! :D

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 

"So Cold" 

* * *

THEN 

Mirkwood 

2865, TA

The Greenwood trees soaked up the rays of the sun almost greedily as they fell down through the branched and into the grand bastion. In the middle of the room, Lady Galadriel, Lord Celeborn and King Thanduil stood around a white oval table that seemed to have been shaped by the very woods themselves. No chisel or tool had made those patterns or line, it had been the magic of the forest itself. "You know as well as I do that the girl has a blood bond on her soul," Thanduil stated, his voice pitched low as his long fingers delicately traced the map on the center of the table. His blue eyes as cold as winter, and just as unforgiving. 

"I am well aware of the threads cast upon the child, and whom they belong to," Lady Galadriel stated, with her ever patient smile. "And where they shall lead given time." 

"And you believe it wise to allow her to grow amongst the Eldar unchecked?" Thrandiul inquired, taking time to say the words as if he taking a sip of wine. It was not often that the Greenwoods that accepted envoys, Thranduil often made an effort to keep his kingdom to itself and keeping its border strong against outside influences. Dale was their last great trading partner, which goods had been many. Since the Sack of Erebor however, all that was left was poorly diminished Lake Town and as sheltered as the Greenwoods were, they needed outside trade as much as any other kingdom. He had accepted the envoy in the hopes of extending trade with Golden Woods, and the king would be a fool not to pass up the curiosity that was Elizabeth Morgan. 

"Are you expressing concern?" Lord Celeborn asked, his face was expressionless. His eyes however, held a hint of warning in them. While Lord Celebron was not as well-known as his lady love, one would be a fool to mistake him for anything less the most formidable of the Eldar. He matched Galadriel in every way, and the two were the best of the elven race. Though he had a good friendship with King Thranduil that the centuries did little to diminish, he would not have anyone speak of Elizabeth Morgan ill. 

"Should I not?" Thranduil asked, with a measure glance at Celeborn. 

"There is no need for such concerns," Celeborn told him, a gentle scold in his voice. "Elizabeth Morgan brings no harm to these woods. Surely, you've seen it yourself? The child's light." 

"Indeed," Thranduil inclined his head gracefully. "It has been a great deal of time since a Child of Man held such grace in their blood and soul. One wonders how it came to be." 

Galadriel smiled, slightly. "Why not speak to the child and find out for yourself, Thranduil? Or are you afraid of the answers that you seek?" Galadriel and Celeborn hid their mutual amusement carefully as Thranduil rose to stand with spine straight and his gaze fell upon them. If there was one thing in the world that Thranduil couldn't resist…it was a challenge. 

* * *

NOW

It happened so fast. 

A herd of deer came out of nowhere just as they reached the other side of the creek, and jumped across the broken bridge as if the leap was nothing at all. However, it startled Bombur who had started to get up and get out of the boat. There was a flash of panic that crossed his face before he went falling back towards the water. "BOMBUR!" She shouted, reaching forward. Her fingers grasped his cloak tightly, and she tried to keep him steady. She really did, but it was too little, too late. 

"Lassie, don't!" Someone warned. 

Bombur fell backwards, and with her hand snagged on his cloak, she went tumbling with him. A cry of panic left her a split second before her entire world was consumed by the cold, dark water. All thought fled her mind, and she was so cold. Her eyes fell closed, and her limbs felt so heavy and lethargic. She found herself sinking deeper, deeper into the black until everything ceased to matter. 

* * *

Bilbo let out a scream, one of panic and horror. He had turned back towards the boat just in time to see Bombur pitch of the edge and would have taken Elizabeth completely with him, if it had not been for Dwalin grasping her cloak. But it had not been enough, Elizabeth had fallen just far enough for her head down to her torso to been pulled under the water. With a grunt, Dwalin hauled her back up from the dark water and caught her before she hit the muddy bank. 

Thorin moved like lightning, and was instantly at her side with the hobbit only a second behind. "Fish Bombur out!" He roared at Dori and Gloin, and then knelt down where Dwalin laid Elizabeth out against the ground. 

"Lassie, lassie," Dwalin smacked her face gently. 

A slight moan slipped out of Elizabeth's mouth, but her eyes stared sightless up at the canopy of trees. Her hands were lifted upwards as if reaching for something, and they shook like leaves in the fall. Her chest rose and fell with sharp breath, and all the blood had drained out of her face. 

"Elizabeth?" Bilbo stared down at her with wide eyes. He had never seen her look so fragile. It was not just the fact that she was shivering and gave a slight whimper. The expression on her face was fragile, like cracked glass about to shatter completely. He didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. 

Thorin eyes flickered over her face, and his fingers hovered over her cheek. When he finally touched her, she cried out and flinched back. Thorin grimaced for her skin was like ice and something in his chest tightened when she fought to get away from him. The fear in her expression shook him to his core, and he struggled not to let it show. With a low growl in his throat, his eyes snapped up towards his company. "Dori, Dwalin, you two will carry Bombur if he can't be roused. Oin…" 

"I'll try rouse the great lump," Oin stated, grumpily. He was already sifting through his pack to find the smelling salts. He passed one to Thorin's hand before he rushed over to Bombur who Dori and Gloin finally managed to pull from the water with great care. Thorin hastily uncorked the tiny vial, and was about to place it underneath Elizabeth's nose, when Bilbo cleared his throat. "Are we sure that is a good idea? What if it makes it worse?" The hobbit's throat bobbed nervously. 

"What would you have me do, Bilbo?" Thorin's blue eyes were hard, leaving no room for argument. "Would you have us leave them in some twisted state of sleep without trying to wake them?" 

"No. Of course not," Bilbo said, softly. "I…I just hope that it works." 

"As we all do, lad," Dwalin gave him a quick look of sympathy. "As we all do." 

Thorin stared down intently at Elizabeth's face, and he cupped her jaw gently. _Come back to us, Elizabeth_ , he urged her silently and he held his breath while putting the vile underneath her nose. A cold stone settled into his stomach when she didn't even so much as twitch, as if she could not even smell the salt at all. Her eyes just continued to stare up at something that they could not see. Disappointment clawed viciously at his chest, Thorin sighed heavily. "What of Bombur?" He barked, his hand still on Elizabeth's face. "Does he wake?" 

"He stirred not at all. If it were not for a heartbeat, I would believe him to be dead," Oin said, his voice raspy. His expression was heavy as he looked up at Thorin across the group of worried dwarves. "The lass?" 

There was a pause, then Thorin said, thickly, "Nothing. She is unresponsive." His blue eyes watched her breathing smooth out as her eyes fluttered closed, and he looked away with palm clenched into a fist. 

Bilbo stood at his side, wringing his hands nervously. The sense of doom that had lingered over them had finally struck, and the hobbit thought as he stared at Elizabeth's pale face, that it wasn't quite done with them just yet. 

* * *

_The water was cold. The water was ice._

_She drifted underneath it, the current pulling her gently to and fro. Her hair whipped around slowly in front of her face, blocking her view of the murky water. She was utterly still from head to toe, and she heard a voice whispered, "You're cold. You're cold, Elizabeth. How did you become so cold?" Her brows furrowed, and images of shadows that flickered around her in the water and haunting whispers filled her ears. A harsh breath, one blink then two and the water faded into a green lush garden. The birds twittered above while Elizabeth sat on the wooden bench pulling flowers from the rose. They fell down into the water, one by one causing ripples against the water. "He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me," she whispered, picking the never ending petals from the rose._

_A shadow fell over her, and she looked up. A smile crossed her face as she saw her parents standing there over her. "Hello," she greeted, happily._

_"Elizabeth, what are you doing here?" Her father questioned, his voice sharp and brusque._

_"Sitting," Elizabeth replied, cheekily._

_"With your head up in the clouds dreaming up fairytales no doubt," her mother said it, and instead of the fondness that Elizabeth was accustomed to, it was said with a tone of derision. Elizabeth frowned, looking up at her parents with her head tilted to the side. "I grew out of fairy tales, mother," she said, slowly. Her stomached turned and knotted._

_"Did you, Elizabeth?" Her mother's smile sharpened. "Did you really?"_

_Elizabeth frowned, and looked at them. Really looked at them, and something felt off. Shadows flickered across their faces, distorting their expression and she twisted the rose nervously in her hands. "Why are you acting like this?" She asked, her voice very small. "You are acting strange."_

_"Let us tell you a fairy tale, Lizzie," her father said._

_Elizabeth immediately bristled. Lizzie was a nickname her brother had given her, and he knew how much she didn't like it. Her parents had_ never _called her that, and the sense of wrongness only increased tenfold. "I don't think I want to hear what you have to say," she said, but her voice was so quiet. It was like she was losing her voice, and her chest felt heavy._

_"Once upon a time, there was a lovely, little girl who lived on the edge of the forest. Her mommy and daddy told her never to go into the forest beyond the train tracks, but do you know what she did?" Her mother said, with an overly sweet tone._

_"No," Elizabeth said, defensively. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and every instinct told her to run away. "Stop it. I don't know this story. I don't want to."_

_"Yes, you do. She went into the forest and she met a monster. And then she died," her father's grin was absolutely wicked._

_The thorns from the rose stabbed deep into Elizabeth's palm, and she stared with unblinking eyes up at her parents. She could feel her heart crack inside of her chest, and she slowly shook her head back and forth._

_"And everyone forgot about her, and we all lived happily ever after," her mother finished, with a high pitched laugh. A truly chilling sound. "The end."_

_The rose fell to the ground, and Elizabeth pressed her hands against her ears to drown out the sound of their laughter that seemed too loud and too cruel. "Stop it! Stop it! Stop it," she chanted over and over and over again, her eyes squeezed shut and then suddenly all fell silent. She knelt there upon the ground, breathing heavily and after several moments, she slowly opened her eyes. She was back in Mirkwood, in the middle of the path and completely alone. Her head snapped back and forth, her eyes wide as she shoved herself to her feet. "Bilbo? Thorin? Dwalin? Anyone?" She called out, but her voice echoed back to her chased by the sounds of animals and wild life._

_She saw neither hide nor hair (pun well intended) of the dwarves, nor the hobbit. Her heartbeat thudded against her ribcage wildly, and reached for Dawnbreaker only to find it gone. Her bow was gone, too. A terrified breath escaped her and her hands went to her daggers, but they weren't there. She had been stripped of all her weapons and left for dead._

_But by what?_

_The Company wouldn't do that. Bilbo wouldn't do that._ Thorin _wouldn't do that…would he? A dark doubt tried to fester inside of her and that sense of wrongness was back again. Rubbing the center of her chest with her fingertips, Elizabeth pulled herself to her feet and slowly started down the path. She blinked her eyes, her vision felt off like there were black dots dancing in front of it constantly. Everything was hazy and unsteady, like she was looking in the wrong end of an unclean telescope._

_She stumbled along the path, blindly. Her heart thudded against her chest, and her ears strained to hear anything around her. Any footsteps, any shuffling, and any noise at all. It was as if all the noise had been sucked from the forest and then suddenly…she heard a slight moan. A tiny little groan and Elizabeth frowned, her eyes narrowed against the back._

_The closer she got, A morbid hum that grew louder with each passing second. With a moment hesitation, Elizabeth moved towards the noise and she dearly wished she had a weapon on her. She shoved slim branches out of her way, they grasped onto her cloak like greedy little fingers and tried to hold her back. With a grunt of effort, she pulled free and pushed forward._

"Stretch it, twist it, make it grow." 

_Her head jerked upward. "What the hell?"_

"Like a river, make it flow." 

_Elizabeth's eyebrows shot into her hairline, and her finger tips twitched nervously at her sides. Who was that? It was a hoarse and rough whisper that made her skin crawl. Her eyes darted around and she swallowed, taking a few more steps into the clearing._

"Make it pull and pinch and tweak. Make it grow 'til she grows weak." 

_Something tightened in her chest, like pure panic and it clawed deep. It stole her breath, and she felt so cold again. Like all the warmth had been stolen right out from her skin, and she shivered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. What was this twisted and horrible place? The forest seemed…more deadly, more fierce if such a thing were possible and it felt directed all at her._

"Make her moan and scream and cry. Make her wish that she would die," _the whisper came with a chilling breath against the shell of her ear and Elizabeth yelped. She twisted around, and found nothing but mist swirling around behind her, ominously._

* * *

The air in the forest became heavy and stagnant. It weighed upon them, almost as unbearable as the sensation of being watched and followed. "Air. I need air," Bofur bemoaned, using his hat to fan his face as he hobbled along the path. His mustache was limp, and damp with sweat. 

"My head," Oin cradled his skull between his hands. His spare horn laid on the ground, forgotten and abandoned. "It's spinning. Everything is spinning." 

Nori who was at the front of the group, came to a sudden halt. A look of panic flashed across his face before Bofur ran into him, and the dwarves reacted slowly, bumping into each other vaguely like dominos. 

"What's happening?" Ori asked, frazzled. 

"Keep moving." Thorin shoved his way through them all and towards the Master Thief with a dark look on his face. "Nori, why have we stopped?" 

"The path...it's disappeared!" Nori replied. 

Bilbo's heart leapt into his throat. "What? We've lost the path?" He asked, aghast. His eyes darted to the ground as if he could find it again, but there was no trace of it. Gandalf's warning rang clear in his ears, and the sense of doom that had lingered over them seemed to increase two fold. 

"Find it. All of you look. Look for the path!" Thorin ordered, raking his eyes across all of the accursed place. The tension drawn in his shoulders lined tight, and it appeared at any second it would snap. His hands holding Elizabeth tightened, pressing her face into his furry mantle and an unintelligent whisper fell from her lips. Her eyes half away open, but truly not seeing the world around. 

While Bombur slept like the dead, Elizabeth would awake. It was not true consciousness. It was feverish one where she fought and clawed at unseen enemies. The times she would scream in agony as she had been lit on fire were the worst, and the times she was silent staring up at the trees above them completely unnerved him. He cradled her closer to his chest, pressing his nose into her hair while resting his chin on top of her head. The intimacy of the gesture was not lost on him, and if any of the other noticed, they wisely did not comment. Not now. 

"We're not going to find it, are we?" Ori asked, his voice bleak. 

Bilbo turned towards him, his expression startled. Out of all the dwarves, Ori was the youngest and the brightest, if not a little naïve. But no matter what had happened, he had kept his innocent optimism about him. To hear such defeat from him made the hobbit's heart clench tightly in his chest. He placed a hand on the young dwarf's shoulder, and tried to give him reassurance. "We'll find the path, Ori. If not…I will try to get us through this." 

"How?" Ori asked. 

"Others have obviously navigated these woods before. We could possibly find our way through," Bilbo said, though even as he said the words he had little to no confidence in them. His eyes flickered up to meet Thorin's heavy stare, and he knew he worried as well. The hobbit's eyes flickered down to Elizabeth's body cradled in the dwarf's arms, so tightly as if he had no intention of letting go. 

Thorin allowed no others to carry her. He carried her for hours without complaint, his face drawn tight with his lips pressed in a thin line as Elizabeth muttered faintly under her breath. Thorin's eyes darted down, searching her face. For any sign that she was free from this dark spell, but found none. Her fingertip twitched from where they clutched at the front of his armor with a knuckle white grip as she was lost deep in a living nightmare. _Much like they were,_ Thorin eyed his surroundings grimly. His head was throbbing, and his mind felt like it was riddled with cobwebs. The forest had gone from just affecting them physically, it had renewed its attack on them mentally. 

"I don't remember this place before. None of it's familiar," Balin said, wearily. He looked so downtrodden, and exhausted. 

"It's got to be here," Dori said, with a sigh. 

"What hour is it?" Oin blinked his bleary eyes. "Surely it’s time to rest?" 

"I do not know. I don't even know what day it is," Dwalin grumbled, from where he was knelt down beside Bombur. They had fashioned a makeshift stretcher out of limbs and a spare cloak that they had. Even with his and Dori's strength, they had to take a much needed break from carrying the red headed dwarf. 

A growl erupted up Thorin's throat. "Is there no end to this accursed place?" He demanded, his voice echoing out into the depths of the forest. 

Elizabeth jolted in his arms, and her breaths grew shallow. Her brows crinkled, her eyes searched around desperately and her body shivered. "Th-thorin?" Her voice sounded so small, and so faint. 

A harsh gust of air fell from his lips. He half did not believe his ears and he pressed a hand against her face. His callous thumb stroking her cheek. "Elizabeth? Can you hear me?" He asked, staring intensely. 

"Thorin?" But her eyes were still glazed over. Her expression was so lost, and so afraid. Another whimper escaped her, and she shivered as if she were cold. As swift as it came, the awareness fled from her face and she slumped back into his arms. The hope tasted bitter as he swallowed it, and he looked at his Company. Their strength was dwindling fast, and Thorin cursed this forest that seemed like it would be the death of them. 

"Is…is she waking up?" Bilbo asked, hopefully. 

Thorin watched her for a long moment, and the hope withered like the grass in winter inside of his chest. "No. She is still delirious," said the Company's leader, roughly. 

The hobbit wilted. With a heavy sigh, he threw himself down upon a rock. The dwarves mutter and ramble as they wander around aimlessly. Bilbo ran a hand down his face, while his other hand idly played with the string on the side of the rock. If his mind hadn't been so muddled and scattered, Bilbo would have realized that it was no string that he pulled on and would have been appalled. Frightened even, for it was the spider webs that he tugged on, and the vibrations continued through the various linked spider webs far off into the forest. In the distance, almost indiscernible to the ear whispers stirred. 

* * *

_She was trapped in the never ending dark. The roots twisted and curled around her ankles, tripping her every other step. Whispers wormed their way into her ears, taunting her from place unseen and Elizabeth felt the tethered that held her mind together falling apart. "Is there no end to this accursed place?" The voice boomed and echoed through the forest with a flash of light. Just a quick glimpse of light, like a flash of lightning that rippled through the forest illuminating it for a brief second._

_Elizabeth startled, her heart leaped in her chest. She twisted around in a circle as if to catch a glimpse of him, just a tiny glimpse. "T-Thorin?" She called out, her throat burned and ached. "Thorin?" She called again after a moment, and she swore she could feel him. He was close. So close!_

_She was sure of it. Her fingers grasped at the air around her, as if seeking something tangible to hold onto. "Thorin? Are you there? Is anyone there?" She asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly._

_"Be calm, child. You are safe."_

_Elizabeth turned, only to gape. There standing by the edge of the balcony stood Lady Galadriel with a small and sad smile upon her lips. "Oh, Elizabeth, you strayed from the path," Lady Galadriel's echoed from somewhere in the distance, and suddenly she was no longer standing the dark forest, but in the Golden Woods. Everything was painted in orange from the light of the fiery sunset and Elizabeth felt the tension in her chest, the shadows that had surrounded her mind lifted. She was able to think clearly, and she heaved a deep breath. Elizabeth blinked, shocked at the sudden change in scenery. "H-how?" Her voice trembled, half afraid that this was another illusion conjured up by her desperate thoughts._

_"But fear not, Aldanniel," the Lady of the Golden Woods gracefully descended the steps and made her way towards her. "Even if one stumbles and loses their way, does not mean they are lost forever."_

_"I don't understand," Elizabeth said, looking around. She was still in very much disbelief, and was having trouble processing what was going on. "Where…? How…? Where is Thorin in the others?"_

_"Close. You will return to them in time, but first there is something that you must see," Lady Galadriel told her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. She steered Elizabeth down a long winding path, deeper into the woods and at the path was a garden. The flowers glowed with some kind of magical light, the petals tilted up towards the setting sun desperate for its last bit of light before the night swallowed the sky. In the center of this magnificent and mystical garden was a large tree the likes which Elizabeth had never seen._

_It had a ten foot diameter, and its limbs were stretched upward in a never ending reach towards the sky. On the golden bark of the tree was a symbol that was familiar to her. A natural growth in the form of a triangle with a swirling pattern in the center that looked vaguely like an eye. A memory stirred of a green piece of paper with the number one on it came to mind, before she let it slip away. It wasn't that important._

_"It was a gift from two of my dearest friends," Galadriel told her, her lips not moving as Elizabeth stared up at the large tree in awe. It towered all others, and eclipsed them in shadows._

_"The Far-Seer and the Forest Spreader gifted my husband and I this when it was naught by a tiny seed. A powerful protection was cast on the seed, and when it would grow it would spread to the rest of the forest enhancing the magic what Celeborn and I had already weaved."_

_"It's beautiful," Elizabeth whispered, awed._

_"It is said that the Far-Seer accidentally put too much of his magic into the tree, and that if fate be kind that a traveler may touch the tree to see their fate," Lady Galadriel stated, with a slight smirk. There was great amusement in her voice when she pronounced 'accidentally'._

_"Or a convenient lie in case Saruman disapproved," Elizabeth chuckled, not seeing the White Wizard liking that one bit._

_"Perhaps," was all Lady Galadriel said in reply._

_"Is the legends true?" She cast a glance back over her shoulder only to find the elven queen who now stood several paces behind her._

_"That is for you alone to find out to find out," Galadriel's was a faint whisper in her ear, and it echoed all around her._

_Elizabeth stared at her for a long moment before she turned to look back at the tree. There was something about it, something that subconsciously called out to her. She lifted a shaky hand, hesitantly at first then she swallowed down her trepidation and placed her palm upon the symbol. It felt like lightning struck her, and her back bow as her head snapped back up towards the sky_. 

[](http://s1084.photobucket.com/user/tigerililly/media/giphy%2018_zpswagiopdh.gif.html)  


Black riders, nine of them with their swords raised high upon the nightmarish steeds. Bilbo with a look of horror on his face as he laid upon the rumble. A dragon and its fire, the devastating fire. Orcs. So many orcs. An army of orcs. Then Thorin…lying prone upon the ground, his broken and bleeding face with the light fading fast from his eyes. It was her, standing there with tears rolling down her face. The look of heartbreak in her eyes. "Lat hizi lakja! Avhe urudu hizi lakja!" A gold ring with glowing elvish writing upon a dark metal gauntlet. A vision of fire, and a man standing at the center that looked like a fiery eye. 

_Elizabeth gasped, burning pain ripped through her and she pulled her hand back away from the tree. Her palm was covered in blood, and the tree was now dead and lifeless. It's disease spread until it engulfed everything. She whirled around to look at Lady Galadriel who just looked at her with a sad kind of knowing in her ancient eyes. "You are still lost in the forest. But though you stumbled, and you are lost, does not mean you will never be found. You are standing on the edge of a knife, and the choices you make will come to shape the world before you. The road is long, and once wrought with peril."_

_"Galadriel, the things I saw…" Elizabeth looked fearful._

_"Are things that will come to pass," Lady Galadriel told her, coming to a stop right in front her. "If you do not find a way…neither will they. Now you must wake up."_

* * *

Bilbo was starting to see things. He thought he saw himself walking backward in front of him, and then he glanced over his shoulder to see another him walking behind Dori. This place was making his mind all befuddled and his thoughts were all fuzzy. 

Ori leaned down and picked up a tobacco pouch with a funny frown on his face. His words are slurred, as if he had a stout drink or two. "What's this?" 

Dori took it from him. "It's a tobacco pouch. Dwarven make. There are dwarves in these woods!" He announced, looking around expectantly as if they might appear at any given second. 

"Dwarves from the Blue Mountains, no less!" Bofur gaped, as he took the pouch from Dori to inspect it for himself. "It's strange…looks exactly like mine. Even gots the little tears at the top." 

Bilbo sighed, heavily before he flopped down on a rock. He pressed his face into his hands in despair and said, frustrated, "That is because it is yours, Bofur." 

"Mine? But mine's…" Bofur groped at the empty spot on his belt with his tobacco pouch was normally, and his eyes got comically wide. "Mine is missing! My tobacco pouch is gone!" 

"Did you drop it?" Gloin snorted. 

"Where did you last see it?" Fili asked. 

"We'll help you look for it," Kili offered, even though his voice was laced with exhaustion. 

"That pouch is his pouch! He dropped it on the path where Ori just found it! Do any of you understand what this means?" Bilbo demanded, turning a glower upon all of them. "We're going round in circles. We are lost." 

"We're not lost," Dwalin said, ever the voice of stubbornness. "We keep heading east." 

"But which way is east?" Oin huffed. "We've lost the sun." 

Bickering broke out amongst the dwarves and Bilbo was a gentle hobbit—at least, he liked to still think he was despite all that happened on this journey. So as a gentle hobbit, he reminded himself that it was impolite to strangle dwarves and refrained from the impulse. He leaned his head back trying to work out the kinks in his neck, and then paused when his eyes focused up at the tree canopy far above him. His brows scrunched together thoughtfully, and he whispered to himself, "The sun…we have to find the sun. Up there. The sun is up there…we need to…" 

Bilbo rose to his feet, and with nimble fingers began to climb up the tree. The dwarves were too busy with their arguments and shoving to notice what the hobbit was up to. 

* * *

Thorin stood apart from the others, knelt down by Elizabeth's side. Her palms were cold like death to the touch, and as he examined her paling face, he heard it. A strange whisper that wormed its way into his ear. "What?" His expression a mixture of suspicion and confusion. "What's that?" 

The whispers continued, but he could not make the out over the other dwarves' raised voices. Thorin growled, rising to his feet and yelled at them, "Enough! Quiet! All of you!" When they fall silent and look at him, he added, darkly, "We're being watched." 

Then that's when he sees them. Slinking down from the shadows above, their eight legs reaching out and he could hear their fangs click together anticipating the meal. "Look out!" Thorin drew his sword from his sheath and lashed out at the nearest one. 

The dwarves fought valiantly, but they were vastly outnumbered (except poor Bombur who was still out cold much like Elizabeth). The spider came out from every shadow, from the ground and from the trees above. They were surrounded, and in their weary state, they were doomed before the fight started. 

"Kili!" Fili shouted, as his brother fell to the ground. He tried to rush to his side, only to be pulled back by two spiders. 

"No!" Thorin stabbed the spider, and kicked it off the end of his blade. He raced to his nephews side, but he was too late. Like the other they laid on the ground motionless like death, and he felt horror grip his heart when he felt a piercing pain in the back of his leg. A horrible, icy sensation worked up his leg and through his entire body within seconds. He craned his head to see the vicious eyes of the spider staring up at him triumphantly. The spiders were crafty in their attack. One would distract the dwarf into attacking, while the other flanked said dwarf, sticking their fangs into their back. 

He crumbled to the ground, feeling the bitter anger at this forest only increases and his face twisted to the side. He saw Elizabeth laying motionless about ten feet away. Thorin felt a shout burn in the back of his throat, but the venom left him paralyze. The spider began to wrap him up in its web, and he could make out a few approaching her body. He watched helpless to stop it as the spider picked up Elizabeth up, and started to weave his web over her when suddenly Dawnbreaker fell from her back. 

It fell with a loud clatter, and the bright jewel shined, cutting through the darkness. "It burns! It burns!" The spider shrieked, dropping Elizabeth to the ground and backing away from the sword as fast as its eight legs could take him. 

"Leave it!" Another spider clicked its fangs together. "We've plenty enough to eat." 

And with a mixture of relief and despair, everything for Thorin went black. 

* * *

Bilbo doesn't know how long it took him, but when he finally broke through the tree tops and into the air, he draws in a deep breath of fresh air. Suddenly, the fog lifted and he could think clearly for the first time in days. He blinked hard, and gaps at the sight of blue butterflies flying all around him, jostled from their little homes by his climb. He raised his head to look out at the skyline to see the setting sun, and he marvels for a moment forgetting how great a comfort its light was. 

A smile stretched across his lips, and laughter tumbles out before he could help himself. He could see several things in the distance, including the Lonely Mountain itself. "I can see a lake! And a river. And the Lonely Mountain. We're almost there!" He shouted down to the dwarves. 

But he received no reply. 

Bilbo looked down with a frown. "Can you hear me? I know which way to go! Hello?" He called out, but instead of a reply from the dwarves, he heard a thumping sound noise in the distance. The trees move haphazardly under the weight of the approach of something he could not see, something that was heading straight towards him and the dwarves. A feeling of dread stabbed at his heart, and he started to climb down. 

Finding steady footing on a limb, he looked around with a frown and slowly he took a step forward. Something caught his ankle, and he let out a shout as he went falling several feet. His body bounced painfully off the branches, and he could nothing to stifle the yelp of pain that left him. He caught himself by sheer luck on a branch, and then he realized that luck was bad luck when he watched in horror as a web parts to reveal a massive spider. 

_The spiders that Elizabeth warned us of!_ He thought as he scrambled back when the spider opened its fang and hissed at him. He fell again, landing on his back in an even bigger spider web. He grimaced and tried to pull himself off the web, but to no avail. He fought…oh, how he fought, but it did not stop the spider wrapped him up tightly. 

* * *

_Dead leaves fell down from the trees as the flowers withered away into nothing, but dust. In the desecrated and dead place were Lady Galadriel and Elizabeth, the silence pressed in on them. "Wake up?" Elizabeth finally found her voice, a light frown on her face as she looked up at Lady Galadriel. "I…I don't remember how," her voice sounded very faint to her ears, and her heart thumped wildly in her chest._

_Lady Galadriel smiled, and tucked a loose strand of hair behind Elizabeth's ear. "Just close your eyes, and remember," the elven queen said, softly._

_"I'm afraid," Elizabeth admitted, after a moment._

_"Everyone is afraid, Aldanniel, but we mustn't live in fear and shadows. Courage is not the absent of that fear, it is to thrive and fight in spite of it," Lady Galadriel told her, solemnly. "Now close your eyes."_

_Elizabeth drew in a breath, and allowed her eyes to flutter closed._ And came arching off the cold, forest ground with a harsh gasp. It felt like she had been punched back into her body, and for several seconds she laid there shaking from head to toe before she was able to catch her breath. Beads of sweat came rolling down her forehead, Elizabeth looked around dazed and her fingertips skimmed across Dawnbreaker that laid on the ground beside her. "What…?" 

A cold stone settled in her stomach. 

The dwarves were gone, and a sick sense of déjà vu swept over her. She felt her stomach twisted, and she felt like she was going to sick. Taking Dawnbreaker by its hilt, she pulled herself to her feet and looked to the ground for any tracks. "A struggle…" She breathed out, and knelt to pick up Bofur's tobacco pouch. He would not willingly part with it. The dwarves fought against something, but she couldn't make out what they fought against. She took a step forward, but stumbled when something stuck against the bottom of her foot. With a glare, she looked down at the offending object only to feel horror rise like bile in the back of her throat. 

It was webs. 

"Shit." She stared, her chest rose and fell sharply. "Shit," she cursed again, and began to follow the tracks using Dawnbreaker as her guide. 

* * *

The dwarves strung up in the trees like meat on meat hooks, wrapped up tight in webs gifts on someone's name day, and a spider towed the web-encased Bilbo towards the door. Little did the spider know, Bilbo was waking up. His head throbbed, and his brow crinkled when he realized that he couldn't move normally. His eyes open only to see the jaws of the giant spider reaching for him to administer another bite, and he managed to get his sword free. Then with all the strength he had, he plunged into the spider's stomach viciously. 

The spider barely made a squeak, its limbs curled inward as it died and Bilbo grunted, flinging it off the end of his sword. It plummeted over the edge, and down into the forest below. With a harsh breath, Bilbo pulled himself free from the webs and carefully stood up on the tree limb. He raised his eyes towards the dwarves who are still hanging up from the trees, and he hide behind a tree when he saw the movement of another spider coming around. 

Licking his lips, he then without thought he pulled his ring from his pocket and slipped it on his finger. The world around him becomes grey, shadows shimmered all around him and the roar entered his ears. And something wholly unexpected happened. In this weird world that ring plunged him into, he can understand what the spiders are saying. It was rather disturbing to be perfectly honest. 

_"Kiilll theemm. Kiill theemm,_ " one hissed, with demented glee. 

_"Eat them now,"_ another whispered, fangs snapping together as it ran one of its legs down the side of the one of the cocoon. _"I'm so hungry…it's been so long since last we fed."_

_"Their hide is tough. There is good juice inside,"_ one spider, tittered. 

_"Stick it again! Stick it again! Finish it off!"_ A spider crowed. The spiders surround one wrapped dwarf, and the dwarf—who was awake now—tried to kick at the spider. But he can't do much when wrapped up so tightly. 

_"Ahh! The meat's alive and kicking!"_ This spider sounded angry. 

_"Kill them, kill them now. Let us feast!"_

The rest of the spiders took up the chant, _"Feast! Feast!"_

Biblo gritted his teeth together, and held his sword in front of him as he silently approached the spiders. He ducked just in time as a spider crawled along a branch above him, heading towards the dwarves. He remembered how spiders reacted to movement from their webs from when he used to play with them as a tiny hobbit. Picking up a tiny piece of wood, he tossed it to the side and all the spiders rush after the noise. 

_"What is it? What is it? Kill it! Feast! Feast!"_ Another one shouted, trailing after the group. Only one spider stayed behind, preparing to eat a wrapped and squirming Bombur. "Fat and juicy. Just a little taste," the spider's mouth watered with anticipation and it dropped Bombur to the trunk and prepared to eat him. 

Bilbo slashed its back leg, and the spider hissed. It spun around swiftly, but it could not see what had attacked it. Bilbo didn't give a chance to recover, and he kept hacking and slicing at it. A leg fell off, then part of its head. _"Curses! Where is it?"_ The spider danced to evade, but it could not fight what it could not see. _"Where is it?"_

With a cheeky grin that was all Took, Bilbo pulled off the ring revealing himself to the spider and he said, "Here!" Then thrust his sword directly into the spider's head. 

_"It stings! Stings!"_

Bilbo pulled the sword out of the spider, and it crashed to the ground below. The hobbit glanced at his sword, staring at for a moment before a slight smirk graced his lips. "Sting. That's a good name," he said to himself, then he heard the panicked grunts from the dwarves and blinked. "Oh. Right. Sorry. Sorry." 

Bilbo cut the dwarves down, and as soon as they land on the forest floor, they proceed to rip off their wrappings. There was quite a few curses and a great deal of yelling the entire time much to the hobbit's amusement. 

"Where's Bilbo?" Bofur yelled. 

"I'm up here!" Bilbo shouted down at them, then he frowned. "Where's Elizabeth? Why is she not with you?" He asked, but before he could be answer a spider jumped at him from underneath the branch he had been standing on. It pinned him underneath it, but Bilbo managed to get Sting in front of it just in time. He stabbed the spider through the belly, and as the spider died, its legs curled inward. 

And trapped Bilbo. 

He had no choice to fall with the spider, and they slam into several branched on their way down, and that's when it happens. Bilbo feels his ring slip right out of his hand. Panic and horror lash through him, and when they land on the forest floor, the air is knocked out of him. 

"Bilbo, are you alright?" Ori squeaked, as the hobbit struggled to get to his feet. 

"Elizabeth," Kili said, looking around. He did not see her, and he turned his wide brown eyes upon his uncle. "Uncle, where's Elizabeth? Did the spider—" 

"Nay," Thorin shook his head. "They attempted to cocoon her in webs when her sword Dawnbreaker fell free from where she had it wrapped up on her back. It's light was harmful to them, and they left her be." 

"Which means that she's out there alone, possibly still unconscious," Balin said, his face very grave and very solemn as his shoulders slumped. 

"We could backtrack," Fili suggested, seriously. "Try to find her." 

"And lose our way again?" Dwalin scoffed, his face twisted in a deep frown. "Even if we tried, we know not what way the spiders took us. We would not even know where to begin." 

"The lass isn't some fragile maiden," Nori stated, with an eyebrow arched at everyone. "Or have your forgotten how she fell into the depths of the Misty Mountain, and we had thought her dead only for her to come to Thorin's aid against Azog?" 

Bifur nodded, enthused and made several hands gestured that meant he agreed with Nori. 

"This forest is filled magic, and none of it benign," Balin heaved a grievous sigh. 

Bilbo couldn't hear the argument that started, his mind only focused on the ring and to get it back. He threw himself towards where it fell and his finger dug through the rotten leaves on the ground. He had to get his ring back. He had to get it back. 

It was precious to him. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.) The Tree: The farseer and forest-spreader that gave the tree to Lady Galadriel were the Blue Wizards, Alatar and Pallando. "Farseer" was a nickname given to Pallando and "Wide-forest" or "Forest-spreader" was one for Alatar. It made sense to me that they would inpact a seed with a magical to Lady Galadriel who saw as much as they did, if not more. The symbol on it is the ALL-SEEING EYE, universal symbol representing spiritual sight, inner vision, higher knowledge, insight into occult mysteries. It also is the symbol on the back of the dollar bill.  
> 2.) "Lat hizi lakja! Avhe urudu hizi lakja!" (Black Speech) You will burn! The mountain will burn!  
> 3.) If Elizabeth's dream seems oddly familiar, or her talk with Lady Galadriel, its because it is based heavily off lines from the Tenth Kingdom between Snow White and the hero.


	26. The King of the Woods

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 

"The King of the Woods"

* * *

The trailed ended, abruptly. 

Elizabeth stared down at the forest floor with too wide eyes, and her throat bobbed. Fear dripped down her spine, and she looked all around her. "Damnit, no," she said, wiping the sweat off her brow. The only reason for the tracks to end was if the spiders had taken them into the tree tops, and that was a path that she couldn't follow. Despair twisted in her gut violently, Elizabeth's jaw clenched when a shadow crossed over above her. With a jolt, she bolted and pressed herself against the nearest tree while she sent her eyes skyward. 

Hiss and sharp clicked came from the dark canopy above her. She squinted her eyes to find the bare traces of light above, and that's when she saw it. A shadow with eight legs moving towards the north. Hope swelled against the gloom churning inside of her, and she gripped Dawnbreaker tighter. "I'm coming. Please hang on. Just hang on," she whispered, underneath her breath as if somehow the dwarves would magically hear her and chased after the shadows only to be cut short by an arrow. "Just please, hang on." It thudded into the tree mere inches in front of her face, and she whipped around only for her mouth to drop open in shock. "You," she breathed out. 

* * *

The spiders were on them in moments, but this time they were prepared. Fili sliced the legs off one spider, while Kili shot an arrow straight into its skull. Dwalin used his axe to cut one clean in half while Nori jumped onto the back of another. Bombur who was still quite unconscious caught the eye of one spider and it scrambled over towards him. As it stood over him ready to have like a midday snack, Dori shouted, "Grab a leg!" The dwarves nearby grabbed the spider's legs causing it to screech and squirm viciously. 

"Pull!" Gloin growled out, and they all pulled. The spider's legs came off with a series of pops, and its dismembered body landed right on top of Bombur. Several feet away, oblivious to the chaos behind him Bilbo is searching desperately for his ring. The blistering panic pumped through his heart, and out through his limbs like a wildfire. His breath came in short and quick gasp as his fingers dug through the foliage. 

"Where is it? Where is it? Come on. Where is it?" Suddenly there was a light tug as his gut, and he paused with a peculiar look on his face. His head craned to look over his shoulder and he spots the golden band lying on the ground nearby. 

His shoulder slumped with relief and he made to move towards the ring when a young, odd-looking spider emerged from a hidden niche just behind the ring. The spider's leg brushed against the ring, and Bilbo got angry. So angry that for a moment his world went black and the next moment, when everything came back into focus he stood of a hacked up spider carcass. His face twisted with disgust, and he sank to his knees while his hand reached out. His fingers grasped the ring like it was an anchor, but he stared down at the dark blood that coated Sting as a cold stone settled in his stomach. "Mine…" the words fell from his lips as the enormity of what he had just dawned on him, and he looked ill. 

"Kili!" Fili shouted, as a spider grabbed onto the dark haired dwarf and started to haul him away. The hobbit's head jerked up to see the dwarves running off into the forest, and with ring in hand, Bilbo followed swiftly. 

More spiders jumped down on threads of silk in front of the dwarves, hissing angrily that their meal had the gall to try and escape as well as slaughter a number of their brethren. Thorin raised his sword, a dark snarl on his face when he froze and his gaze shot upward. 

A blond elf came rushing through the treetops, then swung down a spider's silk in order to land on top of it. With a dagger, the elf methodically killed the spider in a matter of seconds. He then slid down to the forest floor and in one moment almost too quick to catch with the naked eye, has his bow drawn and an arrow pointed straight at Thorin. Thorin glared, darkly. His sword hand twitched, and the elf smirked. "Do not think I will not kill you, dwarf. It would be my pleasure," the elf stated, haughtily. 

The dwarves were surrounded, and outnumbered by the Mirkwood elves who had arrows drawn on them all. Dwalin cursed in his native tongue under his breath, scowling heavily. Balin sighed, looking wearily resigned. 

"Help!" Kili shouted. He kicked and fought as the spider threatened to pull away. His hands reached for his bow that had been dropped admits the struggle, but it was too far out of reach. 

"Kili," Fili tried to go to his brother's aid only to be stopped by the elves. "He's my brother! Let me help him!" The blond dwarf growled, his expression fierce and his blue eyes blazing. 

Before the dwarves could further express their outrage, a red headed elf raced through the treetops towards the shout. She killed three spiders with her bow and knife, then shot an arrow through the head of the one that had grabbed Kili. She landed on the forest floor only a few feet from Kili and turned to another spider behind her. 

Kili scrambled to his feet only to see another spider rushing towards him. "Throw me your dagger!" He bid the elf, watching the spider's progress with wide dark eyes. 

"Quick!" 

"If you think I'm giving you a weapon, dwarf, you're mistaken!" The red headed elf killed her spider with her dagger, then spun around throwing it with amazing precision and killed the spider that had been advancing upon Kili. 

Kili looked between it and her, back and forth for several seconds with pure amazement on his face. Finally, he turned his gaze completely onto the female elf. 

"Well…hello," Kili said, with a blink. A slow smile crossed his features as he stared up at the red head elf with some akin to awe upon his face. He had never seen an elf with such a striking hair color before, and this one was definitely fairer than others he had seen before. His heart thumped wildly in his chest, but the elf gave no reply to his greet other than her left brow ticking upward and a quick flash of amusement in her greenish hazel eyes. 

She drew out an arrow and pointed it at him. "Move," she gestured with a tilt of her head towards the others were at a stand still. 

Kili waited for some kind of outrage to spring up in his gut at being saved and then being clearly threatened, and yet nothing came. He allowed the female to escort him to the rest of the group, and immediately 

"Search them," the blond elf ordered. The elves approached the dwarves and started searching them. An elf confiscated two of Fili's knives, and the blond elf pulled a picture frame with two pictures out of Gloin's pocket. 

"Hey! Give it back! That's private!" Gloin snapped. 

The blond elf's face twisted. "Who is this? Your brother?" 

Gloin's cheeks turned red. "That is my wife!" 

The elf looked at the other picture, which is of a dwarf child. "And what is this horrid creature? A goblin mutant?" He stated, with derision in his voice. 

"That's my wee lad, Gimli," Gloin glared. 

"Legolas!" A familiar voice shouted, over all the dwarves grumbling and the elves sharp words. Everyone stilled and went silent. There was a shuffling of feet, and the voice complained, "Legolas, where are you? Hey, hey! Stop! I am fine!" 

Thorin straightened, shock written on his face as Elizabeth stepped through the group of elves and into the clearing. She dodged the hands of an elf that was clearly checking her injuries and keeping her back away from the group. Elizabeth brushed the leaves off of her cloak with an aggravated sigh and then she looked up to meet Thorin's eyes. A mixture of relief and exhaustion upon seeing him as well as a big smile spread across her face. She propelled herself towards him, and wrapped her arms around him with her face buried right into his chest. His arms came up, only halting for a moment before they wrapped around her. 

"Elizabeth!" 

"I told you the lass would be alright!" 

"No, you didn't." 

"Shut it!" 

Thorin barely believed she stood in his arms. For days, he had agonized of what would be her fate trapped in a never ending nightmare, and even more so when they left her behind. Yet she was here, safe and alive. His chest swelled with an emotion too great to be named and pressed his lips to the crown of her forehead. He cared not what the eyes staring at them thought, too grateful in this moment that she was here in his arms. That once again his Company had all come through another disaster unscathed. His eyes flickered up to the elf named Legolas, and he thought darkly, _For now, at least._

"I awoke and none of you were there. I thought I had lost you again. What is with you stubborn dwarves determined to turn me grey before my time?" She said, on a watery laugh. His clothes held a sharp hint of salt, and fine grant stone. She breathed it in, and allowed some of the tension seep from her muscles. For the first time she woke up, she felt warm and whole again. Reluctantly, she pulled back from the embrace and turned to pin a glare on Legolas. "That was unworthy of you, Legolas," Elizabeth scolded. "There is no need to antagonize Gloin in such a manner." 

A split second of regret then it was gone was all that passed over the blond elf's features before he schooled them. He did not hand the locket back to Gloin much to Elizabeth's chagrin and made his way over to Tauriel. Elizabeth's lips pursed, but she turned back towards Thorin. Her eyes softened, and searched him from head to toe before they flickered across the rest of the company. "Are you all here? Are you all safe and whole?" She asked, worriedly. 

"Aye, we are. How did you come to be with the elves?" Thorin questioned, his voice rough. His hands rested upon her shoulders, and his eyes traced the cuts along her face left by tree branches in her haste. 

"After I awoke, I attempted to follow the spiders' trail, but they had taken you to the tree tops. I feared I could not follow when I spotted stranglers," Elizabeth explained, with a slight quirk of her lips. "I went to give chase only to be stopped by them. If Legolas had not been with them, I fear I would have been taken straight to Mirkwood's dungeons." 

"You know this elf?" Thorin didn't look thrilled by that. 

"Yes," Elizabeth breathed out. Her stomach twisted into knots and she watched his expression sour slightly. "When I was in Mirkwood all those years, we became friends. Out of all the things that could have found me in this forest, I am thankful it was him and not something else." 

Thorin's lip thinned out, but he did not attack her for knowing these elves. A great improvement from his reaction at Rivendell, but then again, they had been through so much since then. 

"Also Thorin, Legolas is…" Elizabeth hesitated, for all of a moment. But she couldn't allow him to find out some other way. "He's Thranduil's son." 

That got a reaction out of Thorin. Any and all warmth drained from Thorin's face, and his blue eyes locked onto Legolas. His lips curled upward, and he started forward when Elizabeth pressed her hands to his chest to stop him. He looked down at her, his eyes ablaze and if she did not know him, she would certainly wilt under such a gaze. "I know that you harbor hatred in your heart for the King of the Woods," she whispered out, her right hand settled right above said heart and her thumb stroked the pattern on his armor, "but the Company, we are in a precarious position right now. I beg of you, do not make things worse." 

"She is right, Thorin," Balin spoke up. "We need not make enemies of them if it can be avoided." He continued on quickly before Thorin could argue that the Mirkwood elves were _already_ their enemies, "Elizabeth, do you think you can speak to them? Perhaps you could persuade them to…see reason?" 

Elizabeth gnawed on her lower lip, her multicolored gaze flickered towards Legolas. "I shall try, but I have not seen Legolas in years. There was a coldness to him that was not there before," Elizabeth said, her expression greatly troubled. 

Thorin grunted underneath his breath. His dislike for the elves evident on his face, especially that of Legolas. He did not know which he disliked more; the fact that he was Thranduil's heir or the fact that Elizabeth would call him a friend. With a great breath, he refocused his attention back on the woman in front of him. His slid his hand down her arms away from her shoulders, until her hands were clasped in his. "Whatever our fates shall be, I am truly glad that you have returned to us," he told her, seriously. 

Two warm spots appeared on her cheeks. "Again," Elizabeth commented, wryly. 

"Again," Thorin repeated, with a faint smile. It fell when Legolas approached them, Orcist in hand. 

"Where did you get this?" Legolas demanded. Not asked, demanded. 

Elizabeth looked like she was cuff his ear if she could get close enough without getting an arrow in the face. She was not oblivious to the bow pointed in her direction. "It was given to me." Was Thorin's short and not-sweet-at-all reply. If his eyes could burn people, the elf before he would be nothing, but ash on the forest floor. 

Legolas's expression twisted, and he pointed the sword at Thorin. The dwarf stared unflinching up at the elf, and the Prince of Mirkwood's eyes narrowed. "Not just a thief, but a liar as well." 

"He's no thief and he does not lie, Legolas. The sword is his. He has my Ada's blessing to use it as he sees fit," Elizabeth, with a tired and exasperated tone. Her friend had chosen quite the day to make an ass of himself, she thought stifling a suffering sigh. "He is not your enemy. None of this posturing is necessary." 

Legolas lowered the sword gracefully, his elegant stance never faltered as he pinned 

Elizabeth with his bright, blue eyes. "Forgive me, _mellonin_ , if I respectfully disagree," Legolas stated, aloofly. 

Elizabeth was strongly reminded of his father in that moment, but did not say so. Instead, she clenched and unclenched her fists at her sides. "Legolas, what do you intend to do with us?" She had to ask, though she feared the answer. 

"It is not up to me to decide your fate. That judgment is to be done by the King," Legolas stated, not batting an eye when his announce sent the nearby dwarves into an uproar. "Bind their hands. You scout ahead, and inform the king of our guests." 

If the dwarves reacted badly to their weapons taken away, they reacted worse when their hands were bound by elven rope which was nigh impossible to undo unless one knew how. Tauriel made to pass Elizabeth over when she stopped the red headed elf. "If you are to bind them," Elizabeth said, her steady gaze bore into Tauriel's, "then you are to bind mine. I am not different than they, and I will not be treated any different." 

Tauriel froze as still as statue for a split second before she inclined her head in an small nod. Taking rope from a nearby elf, she secured it around Elizabeth's hands. _"I wish your return to these woods had turned out differently, mellonin,"_ Tauriel whispered out, regretfully. 

_"As do I,"_ Elizabeth replied, softly. The Captain of the Guard walked away, her footsteps as silent as the grave and that's when Elizabeth noticed something off. 

"Thorin…where's Bilbo?" She asked, keeping her voice as a light as a feather for the ears of elves were keen, indeed. In the midst of the elves taking away the dwarves' weapons, she had thought she had easily missed the hobbit. Yet as they were forced into a neat line, there was still no sign of the hobbit. 

Thorin stiffened, and swept a glance all around them. "He was with us only moments ago. If he is half as smart as I believe him to be, he will stay hidden," he spoke out of the corner of his mouth, a glare fixated on the back of that pointy eared son of Thranduil's. 

Elizabeth didn't look reassured. She had no doubt that Bilbo could take care of himself, but she didn't not wish to leave him behind. She also did not wish for him to be bound like the rest of them, either. So against her better instincts, Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek and continued onward. 

"So, uh, lass," Bofur asked, from somewhere behind her as they were led to the path and escorted through the Woodland Realm. "Since you know the ways of fairer folk then where…on a scale from dungeon to execution, where of you think we stand?" 

One of the elven archers made a choking noise only to be silence by a sharp look from Legolas. 

"Hopefully neither," Elizabeth said, her brows furrowed. 

"You have trespassed. Surely you do not think yourself above reproach for such a transgression," Legolas stated, his tone careful and even. 

"Trespassing?" Dwalin scoffed. "What a load of cobs wash." 

Elizabeth silently agreed. "Forgive me, for I assumed the road through these woods were still open to travelers. Unless that has changed?" She looked at her old friend, with a deep frown. 

"Much has changed," Legolas replied, shortly. "More than you know." 

And that was the extent of the conversation for Legolas went silent, and the dwarves made no further efforts on their part to inquire of their fates as right then. 

* * *

Bilbo had slid on the ring as soon as he heard angry shouts from the company. Despair swelled up in his heart as he wondered what enemy did they face now. More spiders? Or something new? Imagine his shock when he saw elves surrounding the Company with arrows drawn and with the intent of taking them all prisoner. It was obvious that these elves would not be anything like the ones at Rivendell, and that worried Bilbo greatly. 

Part of him wanted to do _something_. Anything. But he was no match for an elf's arrow. He either be dead or wounded if he miraculously appeared from thin air. It would only serve to make the situation worse. His ears perked up when he heard his name, and his eyes flickered over. His heart leapt up in his throat. "Eli…" He clapped his hands over his mouth for the ears of elves were quite astute, and he did not wish to be discovered. It was strange in this grey and colorless world that the ring thrust him into each time he put it on, Elizabeth's multicolored eyes shined like a beacon of swirling, mysterious light. But that was something he had to ponder until later for the elves were ushering the Company through the woods. 

And he most certainly did not want to be left behind. 

* * *

The kingdom was just as impressive as Elizabeth last saw it, yet the elves did not linger about for long. They scurried around like ants seeking shelter from an oncoming storm and there was a heavy weight in the air. _They grieved the woods,_ Elizabeth realized, humbly. Their home overrun by spiders and blackness that was not so easily pushed out. She wanted to ask Legolas why Thranduil had not sent for aid when they clearly so desperately needed it. The frown on her face deepened, and her eye glanced from elf to elf as if she could derive something from their aloof expressions. 

"I have a bad feeling about this," she whispered to Thorin. "I mean, I already had a bad feeling about the forest, but now it is exceedingly worse." 

"We will not let harm befall you," Thorin assured her. 

"It's not me that I am worried that harm might befall," she said, with a meaningful look at him out of the corner of her eye. 

They passed through the grand wooden doors that stood impossibly tall with carvings of elves that stood as silent guardians and warning for those who dared to enter. They closed with a loud sound that sent a shiver down her spine like a bolt of lightning, and she let out a deep breath. Her eyes traced the wooden pathways before them, and her gut twisted uneasily. She could remember how easily it had been to get lost here, and her throat bobbed slightly. 

"Legebriril. Coldur," Legolas greeted the two approaching guards. "I trust that the scout I sent ahead has informed my father of our… _guests_ ," he said, with a slight sneer in his voice. 

Thorin gave him a snarl, while Elizabeth gave him a reproachful look. Tauriel's expression was mute, but her eyes flickered with disapproval at the thinly veiled insult. "He has been made aware of their presences in his woods, as well as Lady Aldanniel's. The King says the dwarves are to be held in the dungeon until such a time he can pass judgment on their transgression while he requests that the Lady be separated from the prisoners," Coldur spoke in common, a small courtesy to those who did not speak their native tongue. It was likely the only courtesy they were to receive by the looks of things. 

"No," Thorin said, his voice echoed after Elizabeth's very own. His blue eyes blazed at the guards that approached, and he felt Elizabeth tense at his side. 

"I am part of their Company. My fate shall be as theirs," Elizabeth stated, her angry eyes twisted upon Legolas who stood as still as a statue. 

Legolas's eyes flickered between the two guards for a moment, and he looked as if may offer protest. Yet the urge visibly died from his eyes, and he sets his shoulders in a stiff line. "As the King commands," he inclined his head, and moved aside to allow the guards to start towards Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth bristled, panic burning whitehot in her veins. Her nightmare of being alone and abandoned still fresh within her mind. She did not want to be parted from the dwarves. Not after everything. Her lungs coiled tighter and tighter, twisting inside her chest within ever step the guards took. It was like a beast had been unleashed inside of her that she could not contain, and as steel like hands seized her arms, she fought viciously against them. With an angry noise like a panther, she elbowed one right in the stomach and stomped on the other's foot. 

Elizabeth stumbled back, away from them when another elven guard lunged forward after the assault and struck her across the temple with the butt of his blade. Her skull throbbed, and the world tilted. She crumpled to her knees with a sharp hiss through her teeth as black dots danced through her vision. That had been an unsuspected shock, and a wave of nausea rolled through her stomach. With the ringing in her ear, she barely made out the company's shout nor Legolas sharp reprimand to the guard. 

Thorin knelt down beside her. He placed his hands upon her shoulder as best as he could with them bond, and Elizabeth raised her head. "And you tell me not to get into trouble," he said, his voice pitched low. The look of his blue eyes was one torn between approval and disapproval. 

"I…I…panicked," Elizabeth breathed out. Her eyes were big on her face as she stared up at him with shallow breaths. "I don't…want to be separated…" It felt claws tearing into her throat stealing away her voice, and a coldness swept over her. Just like in the horrible never ending nightmare. 

Understanding softened Thorin's features, and his hand tightened on her shoulder comfortingly. It was not a comfort meant to last for guards seized Thorin, and hauled him back. A spilt second later, Elizabeth was pulled to her feet and she had to swallow the trepidation that burned up the back of her throat like bile. 

" _Do not fight_ ," Tauriel whispered to Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth's expression cracked. She wanted to tell Tauriel that was an impossibility. That was telling a fish not to swim, or a bird not to fly. She was a fighter at heart, and she clenched her jaw. "Thorin…" She whispered out, her eyes catching his and she didn't know what look was on her face, but Thorin made to step towards her only to a blade placed at his throat. He glowered at the elf, his hands clenched into tight fists. There was a long hot moment where no one moved, and then Legolas snapped out an order in elvish. Thorin and the dwarves were led one way. 

Elizabeth was led another with Tauriel by her side, but even that was not enough to stop her heart from sinking in her chest. She had found them again, only to be separated once more. 

* * *

Bilbo felt strange. 

This was the longest he had ever been with the ring on, and his finger ached. Ice seemed to burn outward from the ring, bordering on painful yet he knew he could not tear it off if he wished not to be discovered by the elven that marched about. He had lost sight of Thorin and the others after they had been escorted into the King's Hall, so he ducked down the hallway in which he saw them lead Elizabeth down. 

His teeth gritted together as he had to pull back, and press himself against the wall when two servants came rushing by as if they had an orc pack behind them. He held his breath until they were out of sight, and shook his head lightly. Once this whole business with the dragon was over, Bilbo was never use the ring again nor would he be sneaking about like a thief in the night. No, he certainly would not. 

* * *

Tauriel watched with calm eyes as the furious woman paced the length of the room. She had refused all comforts offered, and all but snarled at anyone who glanced at her wrongly. "I had forgotten how tenacious you were," the red headed elf observed. She had sent away the servants for they had only increased Elizabeth's ire. "Especially once you had made up your mind." 

"I don't need a healer. I don't need a bath. I don't need a change of clothes. I need to see Thorin and the others," Elizabeth stated, her tone dark and her expression flat as she paced the room like a hunger tiger paced inside of a cage. "They do not deserve to be treated as if they were common criminals. We sought nothing more than to get through this forest unharmed. Nothing more." 

"Nothing more?" Tauriel repeated, her head tilted to the side. 

Elizabeth faltered in step for a split second. There was _more_ to it than merely getting through forest. An entire mountain more than what the elves knew, but it was not her place to speak of it. "Nothing more than that concerns Mirkwood or its King," she settled for a half truth, and continued her pacing. Her lips were pulled into a thin line, and her brows were knotted together with worry. Her stomach was twisting into knots, and the throbbing ache increased in her skull. 

"You are not well," Tauriel stated. "Perhaps a healer…" 

"It is nothing. Just some aches. I suppose that if it my own fault for being blighted by the forest water," Elizabeth admitted, her cheeks turned red with embarrassment as she rubbed her temples. An amateur move by a veteran adventure as herself, but she hadn't been thinking in the moment. She had seen a friend in trouble, and leapt without looking as the saying goes. 

"You drank from the river?" Tauriel visibly paled. 

"No. It wasn't…like that. Beorn warned us not to drink from it, so we did not. Unfortunately, when we went to cross by boat a deer startled Bombur. He fell in, and I fell in after. But w-we have both awaken, and are better now," Elizabeth stated, her words came out slowly as she shot Tauriel a look of consideration. "Unless you mean to say that there is more to than that?" 

Tauriel lips pursed together. "Before we knew of the water contamination, several of our scouts fell ill from it. Even after they had awoke from their cursed slumber, some were still stricken by fever and sickness." She hesitated for a split second before she added, "Some…did not make it." 

Elizabeth's expression softened, and she turned sorrowful eyes upon her friend. "Tauriel, I'm sorry," she said, quietly. "If I had known I would have been here." 

"I do not think it is in your power to cure these woods, _mellonin_ ," Tauriel said, with a sad twist of her lips. "But I appreciate the thought nonetheless." She straightened her spine, and composed herself with a breath. "While you are set against seeking a healer, would you still like me to have one check on the dwarf you spoke of? Bomfur?" 

"Bombur," Elizabeth corrected, gently. She did not feel feverish. Weaken considerably, yes, but not ill. "I could not speculate on his health. He was not his usual self when we were being brought here, but that could have been…the recent company," she said, lightly and underneath her breath. 

Amusement glittered in Tauriel’s eyes as she smothered a smile. "Indeed. I suppose being taken prisoner does not elevate one's mood, but I shall have the healers check on him nonetheless." 

A grateful smile split Elizabeth's face. "Thank you, Tauriel. I appreciate it," she told her, sincerely. 

The doors to the room opened with a great groan, and in strode the Prince of the Woodland Realm. His face was grim, but the expression died away at the sight of both of them. In this moment, he looked like the jovial elf that she remembered from all those years ago. 

"Legolas," Elizabeth greeted, warily. 

"Elizabeth," Legolas allowed a smile. "I see that you've sent the servants fleeing from your anger. It's quite an impressive feat. I had thought my father the only one capable of sending them running for the hills." 

"What gave it away?" Elizabeth said, sarcastically. "The sour look on my face? Or the fact that you've imprisoned my friends?" 

"Elizabeth, I understand your worry, but my father is a fair king," Legolas said, his smile slipped into a frown. His blue eyes grew solemn as he stared down his friend. "What judgment he will render will fit the severity of the crime." 

"There was no _crime_ ," Elizabeth reiterated, firmly. Her voice took a shrill quality that reminded her too much of Lobelia for her liking, and she cleared her throat roughly. "The dwarves…are they being treated as I am? Or…" She trailed off, sending the two elves a helpless look. 

"The King has ordered them to the dungeons after he spoke with them as a whole. It is his hope that if they are separated that they might be more…receptive to speaking about their purpose here in the woods," Legolas revealed, his voice stiff. 

"There was no purpose other than to follow the path through them," Elizabeth stated, vehemently. "They are not thieves, or plunderers! We simply got turnabout and lost. We had no intention of…" She stopped and took a deep breath in an effort to calm herself. She clenched and unclenched her fists before she met Legolas's gaze. "Legolas, we were merely travelers. We just wanted to get through the forest. We had no intention of even coming near this place." 

"It is not my place to decide that, Elizabeth," Legolas stated, tersely. "It is my father's." 

"Which means he's already condemned them." Elizabeth felt sick, and she sat down weakly in the nearby chair. For several moment, she stared out at the bright walls before she drew in a solemn breath. "Legolas…" Elizabeth became very serious, her expression falling and she could not hide the worry on her face. "What will happen to Thorin? To the others? Your father cannot be serious in his decision to keep the here until they comply or until…" Her voice trailed off when Legolas's expression became ice cold. 

"I have little sympathy for dwarves, Elizabeth," Legolas stated, harshly. "They are blinded by their greed, and hold little regard for others." 

Elizabeth felt a ripple of indignation rush through her, and pursed her lips into a hard line. She did not wish to fight with her friend, but she also could not let the slight against the dwarves go unanswered. "And the elves are without their faults?" Elizabeth countered, her voice even. 

"That is not what he said," Tauriel sighed. 

"No, but it was implied." Elizabeth stated, her voice toneless as she pinned the Mirkwood Prince with a stony look. "I will not deny that dwarves are capable of greed, but it is not all that they are. Just like the elves are capable of great wisdom, but at times are short sighted," Elizabeth said, with a light sigh. "We all have flaws that we bear, but they are not all that we are or all that we will be. We are more than our flaws, and these dwarves are not dwarves filled with greed, Legolas. They are filled with pain. If you knew them— _truly knew them_ —then you would see that they are filled with such sorrow, and longing for somewhere to belong. One would think that in this ever changing world, that you who stands still against time, would understand that just a little bit." Legolas gave her piercing stare, and he clenched his jaw before he stormed out of the room. Elizabeth watched the door shut behind him, and she closed her eyes running her fingers through her hair. "I didn't mean…" she began, her heart heavy with guilt at lashing out at him like that. 

"I know and so does Legolas," Tauriel stated, compassionately. The female elf tilted her head and studied Elizabeth for a long silent moment. "Forgive him, Aldanniel. His heart has been most troubled with the shadow that lingers over our home, as we all are. We were unprepared for any travelers to be in the woods, let alone dwarves of all things." Tauriel's warm emerald eyes flickered with sympathy. "In his heart, Legolas knows that you speak truth, but his head is most stubborn in following. He will come to see reason." 

"He might," Elizabeth agreed, gravely. "Will the King?" 

Uncertainty flashed across Tauriel's stoic features just long enough for Elizabeth to catch it, and her heart sank into her chest. No, she thought with despair. _It cannot end like this. After all, we have lived through. Surely it hasn't be for naught._

"The King has his pride. He would not accept aid so easily," Tauriel stated, simply. "It is not my place to question." 

"If not yours and Legolas's then whose?" Elizabeth asked, her voice filled with defeat. "You two are the closest out of the Woodland realm to him. If it is not your place to question him, or his choices then whose place is it? Tell me, whose is it?" Her voice so loud that it echoed off the walls. 

Tauriel didn't say anything, for what could she say? The red headed elf stood there hands clasped in front of her as Elizabeth placed a hand over her mouth, stunned by the greatness of her anger. 

"Forgive me, my friend," Elizabeth whispered out. "My anger is not meant at you. Only at the injustice that the Company goes through." 

Tauriel paused then ventured, "You care for them as if they are your own." 

"They are," Elizabeth admitted, easily. "In my heart, they are. I would fight to the death for them, Tauriel. I can't stand being in this room, with elves trying to care for me and keep me in this decorative prison cell while they are down there in room not fit enough to keep an animal in." Unclenching her jaw, she allowed a deep breath and she looked over at Tauriel for a long silent moment. "Here I am raging and screaming and I haven't stopped to tell you… how sorry I am for what has happened to your home, Tauriel. I cannot imagine what it was like to have to endure that. If any of us had known, we would have come to your aid without question." 

"I know you would." Tauriel smiled, slightly. "I wish that I could stay with you my friend, but I have duties I need to return to, so I shall leave you for the time being," Tauriel whispered, regretfully. "Please do not spend your time idle, Elizabeth. It is easier to put the dwarves down there in the dungeon than you. The dwarves have not been recognized as a Kingdom for a long time, and with their history with the King, I doubt he will be willing to hear them truly out. However, while Lord Elrond may not have a lofty title as a King, in the ways of the ancients his place is higher than that of Thranduil's. The King knows better than to put you, Elrond's daughter in all but blood, into a dungeon. You are not as helpless as you think. Have the servants draw you a bath, eat and change clothes. Take care of yourself Elizabeth. If you do not then who will be strong and able to take care of your dwarves? Hmm?” 

* * *

As the doors closed upon the red head, Elizabeth sighed heavily. Tauriel did have a point. Her mind raced with the new possibilities that opened up before her and she nodded absentmindedly to herself. She would get cleaned up, and then call for an audience with the king. She knew that Thranduil would likely leave her to stew, prolonging the uncertainty of their situation as long as he could, but she knew he would eventually grant it. It was the eventually part that had her most anxious. Thranduil had eternity so his idea of eventually greatly differed from hers and the dwarves. Chewing on her lower lip, she heard a familiar curse from behind her and whipped around. 

She turned and saw the chair moved as if it were shoved by _nothing_. 

Elizabeth felt shock rush down her spine, and her hair stand on end as she reached for her bow only to remember that it had been taken from her shortly after she was tossed into this room. The irony that she once found solace in this place that was hers in those few months spent in Mirkwood, and now that sanctuary was a prison was not lost on her. 

“What the hell…” Her voice broke off when a hobbit appeared from thin air. 

“Bilbo!” Elizabeth gaped, mystified as Bilbo appeared from thin air. “Wha…? How?” She faltered, as she could not figure out what to say. It was not every day that hobbits magically appeared. 

"Hobbit tricks," Bilbo replied, quickly and without thought. 

Elizabeth eyes narrowed slightly. "I have been around hobbits for a long time and I have never seen such tricks. You must have hidden them well," she said, slowly. She was certain that there was more to what Bilbo was saying, but she gave a shake of her head. "But that surprisingly—and that says a great deal because you apparently can become invisible—is not my biggest concern right now. How are you? Are you well? The spider—" 

"I killed them. Most of them, I think," Bilbo said, rather breathless. His brow was so furrowed that it appeared that his eyebrows were trying to become one creatures. "My sword is named Sting. I named it Sting, after killing the spiders." 

"That's a good name," Elizabeth said, with a flash of a proud grin. She always knew Bilbo was made of sterner stuff than others gave him credit for. 

"Thank you," Bilbo said, faintly. "But…but that's not what I came in here to tell you. I saw the dwarves they were taken into the meeting with the King, but from the way the elf, Legolas spoke it did not go well." 

"I think that's a bit of understatement," Elizabeth said, with a wince. She could barely imagine how the dwarves reacted in the King's presences. The man who turned his back while Erebor burned, she could hear the insult right off of Thorin's tongue as if surely stood beside her. She swallowed thickly. "King Thranduil cannot keep us here. It is the First born's duty to offer safe harbor for those who travel the world and especially those who cross through their realm. He cannot keep us here without charge." 

Bilbo's eyes darkened, lost in his thoughts. "What if I use the ring?" He asked, suddenly. He held the golden little band for a split second for Elizabeth to see before he cradled in back into the safety of his palm. 

"Use the ring?" Elizabeth tilted her head. 

"It's…what makes me invisible," Bilbo explained, with a rather reluctant expression. "I could use it to find the others, and maybe even find a way out. I could endure the strange feeling it gives me…" His mouth clapped shut, as if his body had realized he had said something he shouldn't have. 

"Makes you feel strange? Feel strange how?" Elizabeth asked, alarmed. A mysterious ring that he hadn't told anyone about? And it made him feel strange? The fear that prickled at her scalp at the sight of the ring increased. 

Bilbo for a moment wished he hadn't said anything, then sighed. "Cold. It makes me feel cold, and like I have my head underneath the water," Bilbo said, his eyes distant as he recalled the feeling. "Like the world is around me, but so far away at the same time." 

"That does not sound like a good thing, no matter how useful invisibility is. Perhaps it is best if you don't use it," Elizabeth said, softly. She did not like the sound of that. After all, Gandalf himself said there were more to magical items than what they appeared. "We could find another way." 

"I have to use it," Bilbo said, vehemently. He felt a bit angry that Elizabeth couldn't see how vital the ring was to escaping this place. "Unless you have a better way for us to get out of here unseen?" 

Elizabeth faltered. Her expression falling, and she reached upward tunneling her fingers through her hair. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps it may be the only way, but allow me one thing before we try out this plan of yours?" 

"Anything," Bilbo said, readily. 

Elizabeth gave him a quick smile. "Allow me a few days to seek an audience with the King. Mayhap I can speak with and show him that we meant his woods no harm and he will let us go." 

"You think he will see you?" Bilbo frowned. It was a sensible plan. A lot safer than trying to escape right out underneath the elven king's nose. 

"He will, eventually. My status does grant me a certain leverage that Thorin's will not," she said, softly. "I just hope it is enough to make Thranduil see reason." 

"And if the King waits too long? What then?" Bilbo asked. 

"Then we do your plan," Elizabeth said, reasonably. 

The hobbit shifted from foot to foot, debating for several moments before he nodded. "Very well. We will wait and see if the King will see you. In the meantime, I will try to see if I can locate the dungeons and perhaps the dwarves weapons as well." 

* * *

A day had passed, but to the dwarves it was just the beginning of a long haul. Thorin stubbornly refused the King's offer, and Balin had been moved from his adjoining cell. It was obvious to the dwarves that this was a tact in intimidation. That each day that Thorin refused that they would be more farther away the others would be put away from him. 

A second day had come to pass, and the deal was offered again. True to what Balin had predicted, the rest of the Company was moved to the other side of the dungeon. The next time he refused, Thorin had been threatened with being taken down to the deepest level of the dungeon and left there to rot in the darkness. "I do not fear the darkness, nor your king," Thorin had spat at the Prince of Mirkwood and had turned his back on the elf in dismissal. 

It was on third day that Tauriel entered the dungeons alongside of Legolas and a guard, Tamlen. Legolas came down to ask Thorin the same question as he did the day before, and Tauriel because she heard worrying news about the red headed dwarf, Bombur. Tauriel had bid the guards to keep an eye on his condition, and heard that he had been sickly the previous night only to grow worse upon daybreak. 

Tamlen opened the cell door, and Tauriel stepped inside. 

Kili perked up despite himself, and got to his feet. His thoughts had been more consumed with the red head elf than was probably a good thing. "If it isn't my dazzling savoir from the woods. Are you here to help me get out of the place? Or just to search me again?" Kili asked, with a wicked smirk. He could not resist the urge to be cheeky when she was in front of him. "You know, I could have anything down my trousers." 

Tauriel's eyebrow ticked upward. The edge of her mouth ticked upward in amusement at his gall before she could help herself. "Or nothing," she countered, smoothly. She then brushed past him, and towards Bombur who laid upon the floor. He was shaking and shivering. She examined him with a frown, and placed her hand upon his forehead. He was burning with fever. _"Tamlen, have the healers check on this one every two hours. Instead of bread, bring him warm broth and an extra blanket."_

_"Why?"_ Tamlen snorted, his lip curled upward in a sneer. _"Is it diseased? Would it not be better to put it out of its misery?"_

"What's going on? Do you know what's wrong with Bombur?" Kili questioned, his previous humor evaporated in an instant. His dark serious were locked onto Tauriel, and if it were not for the other elf, he would have made to move towards her side. 

Tauriel gave Tamlen a sharp look that promised a harsh reprimand if he spoke out of turn again, and did not do as he was told before she allowed her gaze to fall on Kili. "He has taken ill from the forest water, but he is in a state of limbo. Awaking is a great stride towards recovery, but he is not quite out of the woods just yet." 

"Is that a pun?" Kili frowned. "Did you just make a pun? Didn't know elves could do that." 

Tauriel rose gracefully off the ground with a soundless laugh. "From what I gather, dwarf, there is a great deal you don't know about what elves can do," she said, sliding past him and out the cell without a look back. Tamlen haughtily slammed the cell door shut as Tauriel made her way to where Legolas stood. 

_"I Nogoth amman e tîr gin_ , Tauriel?" Legolas frowned, slightly when he saw the smile that Kili sent Tauriel through the cell bars. _Why does the dwarf stare at you, Tauriel?_

Tauriel glanced back in time to catch the smile, and did not understand why the dwarf was looking at her so. It made her feel slightly uncomfortable, and her cheeks felt flush. _"Údangada?" Who can say?_

_"Perhaps he is taken with you. I've heard dwarves admire prowess in battle, and you did save him from being a spider's brunch,_ " Legolas arched a brow, looking faintly disgusted by the thought. 

Tauriel narrowed her eyes. _"Your glibness does you no credit,"_ she told him, flatly as the burning in her cheeks increased tenfold. "What of the dwarves' leader? Has he yet agreed to King Thranduil's terms?" 

Legolas snorted, softly. "No. He remains most stubborn much to my father's vexation," he stated, quietly. "My father believes the dwarves seek out to reclaim Erebor. A fool's quest with nothing more than dragon's fire at the end of it." 

Tauriel cocked her head to the side. "I suppose that is why Elizabeth feels so strongly for them. She knows the pain of losing her home, and being without a place in the world," the red headed commented, softly. "Do you believe your father is right?" 

Legolas nodded. "Perhaps, even more than we know," he told her, quietly before he swept around on his heel and strode up the stairs. 

Tauriel watched him until he was out of sight, before she felt the unease sense of being watched cause the hair on the nape of her neck to stand on end. She glanced back at the dwarf, Kili's cell, but he was not staring at her any longer. She glanced around until her eyes fell upon two glaring blue eyes. It was the dwarves’ leader. 

Tauriel raised her chin slightly, before she turned her back on him and walked up the stairs after her kin. 

* * *

Thorin watched with a dark look as the elves left the dungeon. His jaw was clenched so hard that his teeth had gone numb inside of his mouth, and he wished he could see the members of his company. As long as he had them in his eyesight he was assured that they were safe and sound, but this was his punishment for bowing to Thranduil's wishes. His Company locked in a dungeon, Bilbo missing, and Elizabeth far away from them. He imagined Elizabeth was no better than he, pacing and filled with worry. Her stricken expression as she was forced away from the Company was engraved into his mind. Every time he thought of it, his anger burned brighter and hotter than before. He ran a hand across his jaw, muttering darkly to himself about what he would do once he was free from this place when he heard Bilbo's voice call out to him. 

"Thorin," it was a barely a whisper, but it was unmistakably the hobbit's voice. 

"Bilb—" Thorin turned at the sound of the hobbit's voice, but he saw nothing. He stared for a long moment, his expression twisted with confusion and suspicion. He took several deep breaths before he turned his back on the cell door, with a shake of his head. 

"Thorin." The frantic whisper came again. 

Thorin narrowed his eyes, and his teeth clenched together. No, he was not going mad. He could not be. It would take more than three days in a prison cell to cause his mind to slip. "Begone spirit or illusion, whatever you may be. I will not waste my time on elfish tricks, they will not break me. You waste your time." 

"I'm not an illusion nor I am some elf spirit! Save me from the stubbornness of dwarves," Bilbo's voice was filled frustration. There was a huff, and then suddenly Bilbo appeared as if by magic. 

"Bilbo," Thorin breathed out. Shock rippled through him, and he took a great stride until he was leaning against the cell door. "It truly is you." 

"It is me," Bilbo agreed, with a sheepish look. "Sorry. I would have shown myself earlier, but…I could not risk being caught. You would not believe how long it to find my way down here." 

Thorin shook his head, an expression of awe on his usually stoic face. "Will wonders never cease? When I think that I know all there is to know about hobbits," Thorin spoke, his You are full of surprises, my dear friend." 

"Lucky for you," Bilbo said, cheekily. 

A small laugh escaped Thorin. "Lucky for us," he agreed, tiredly. "Have you seen Elizabeth? Is she well?" Thorin inquired, his hands tightening around the bars of his cell. 

"She is not in the dungeon. Thranduil has her imprisoned in the wing of the castle reserved for guests, but he has guards stations almost daily outside her door," Bilbo informed him, after he cast a wary glance over his shoulder. "She has requested to be brought forth in front of Thranduil. She hopes to reason with him." 

"A foolish hope," Thorin muttered, darkly. "Thranduil will not see _reason_. He has his own motivations to keep us here in these dungeons, and no matter how great Elizabeth is at the using her honeyed words of persuasion, I do not think the King's mind will be swayed." 

"Those are my thoughts as well," the hobbit nodded. "So if should Elizabeth's efforts fail, I will use my magic trick and uh, find us a way out." 

A great weight lifted just a margin off Thorin's chest. "Then there is still hope," he breathed out. A great slamming of doors echoed through the dungeon chamber, and the hobbit shared a look with Thorin. "Disappear. Quickly," Thorin ordered, underneath his breath. 

Bilbo nodded, and pulled back from the cell. He slipped the ring on his finger and disappeared from sight just as the guards came around the corner. The hobbit watched as they opened Thorin's cell door, and pulled the dwarf roughly out. He held his breath tightly in his throat, and he watched for them to pass before he silently followed behind them. 

* * *

Elizabeth made herself presentable as she could. Her hair was pulled back in a simple braid that hung down half way down her spine, and she was dress in a flowing blue dress rather than her armor. She looked the image of the lady that her Ada wished her to be, but she could no conceal the dark circles beneath her eyes that told of countless sleepless hours spent filled with worry. Bilbo stayed with her as long as he could, but even he could not drive away the nightmares. The forest still had a hold her, and it was not letting go. With a deep breath, she held her head high as she was brought into the throne room, and stood there with her hands clasped delicate in front of her after the guards were dismissed. She could not fight the anxious that crept along her skin like needles through a patch of cloth, and her heart felt like a hummingbird inside her chest as she stared up at the King of the Woods. 

He sat upon the throne like some lone and ethereal being with a crown made of red leaves and berries resting upon his head. Strands of golden, so bright, that they almost appeared snow white graceful fell down around his waist. His skin and smooth, flawlessly pale and his expression was regal and aloof. He glowed as if he held some kind of inner light like all elves had, but his was brighter than most elves and yet was nothing compared to that of Lady Galadriel. His eyes were as blue and clear as the crisp morning sky, but the look was detached and distance. Thranduil was beautiful, but his was a cold beauty. Haughty and unattainable. "Lady Aldanniel," his words rolled off his tongue as smooth as silk, and his voice had a rich, deep quality to it. "My, my, what a surprise to have you once again grace these halls. Even more so to find you in the company of dwarves." 

"Your majesty," Elizabeth kept her manners about her as she gave a bow, even though she felt an indignant anger at the obvious mistreatment of her friends. She had to keep her temper about her, and not allow him to see it. "Your halls are just as breathtaking as I remember however I wish the circumstances in which I have returned had been more ideal." 

The weight of his gaze sent an unpleasant shiver up her spine, and the King of Mirkwood did not address her right away. The longer the silence drew onward, the more Elizabeth's nerves grew. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke. "And why have you asked to be brought before me?" His words rolled of his tongue as smooth as silk, and his voice had a rich, deep quality to it. 

She drew in a slow breath before raising her gaze to the King's, not willing to quell underneath his unnerving stare. "I humbly request to see them," Elizabeth requested, lightly. 

"Them?" Thranduil arched a brow. 

"Thorin and the others," she clarified, though Thranduil knew exactly who she was talking about. He merely wished to hear her say, perhaps for his amusement, but she would confess to not knowing how the elf king's mind worked. "They are my companions. Your guards separated me from them when we first crossed into the city. I merely wish to speak to them, and ascertain their wellbeing with my own eyes." 

Thranduil hummed underneath his breath while his long, elegant fingers graceful accepted the glass of wine poured by a servant. While tasting it and finding it satisfying, he waved the servant away before he turned towards Elizabeth. "You care deeply for these dwarves," Thranduil commented, casually. His tone was mild, and uninterested as he regarded her with the same kind of curiosity one had for ant just before it was to be squashed. It was a remarkable façade the Elven King had created, and Elizabeth wondered how long it took him to perfect it. 

"How can I not? I've traveled with them for miles, and have gotten to know them as well as my own kin. I have fought and bleed beside them, and they are good people. They have good hearts," Elizabeth said, her gaze holding his even though her skin crawled with discomfort. Thranduil's eyes were always piercing as if he could see straight into a person's soul and was weighing its value. 

"I have seen that _good_ hearts, more often than not, succumb corruption and darkness," the Elven King stated, offhandedly. 

Elizabeth's hands clenched tightly at her sides. She was no fool. She knew that Thranduil intended on sowing the seeds of mistrust to either gain her loyalty enough to loosen her tongue, or to cause her to doubt her friends. Thranduil might be a good king, but there times that were times that he fell short of being a good person. There was a tremble along her jaw, but other than her expression gave away nothing. "I suppose that you would know of such corruption better than most," she replied, a faint twitch of her lips and a sardonic tone to her voice. 

Thranduil paused for only a second, just a second where his blue eyes flickered towards her. "Come now, Thane of Rivdendell, surely there is no reason to trade such barbs," Thranduil stated, slowly. He rose from his throne in one fluid movement, and walked soundless down the stairs. Each movement a thing of beauty and grace. "Let us reason together. It would be a regrettable waste to have this entire journey to be for naught, now wouldn't it? Such a valiant effort made in vain all because of a simple misunderstanding." 

Elizabeth felt the knots in her stomach grow worse. "And what misunderstanding was that? The dwarves' folly in putting their faith in elves, and hoping that for once that might receive aid? Or that your elves captured us for no other reason than they are dwarves?" She asked, fighting to keep her voice even. She did not know if Thranduil knew of their true purpose of reaching the Lonely Mountain, but she would not betray the dwarves by telling him. 

"You are so _willful_ ," Thranduil stated, and the tone in his voice implied that was not a compliment. He stood before her not even a foot away, and towered over her with his head cocked to the side, curiously. "Even now, you are bold, in the presence of a king. Not many would have the nerve to openly show such defiance. I am not sure if its foolishness, or bravery that spurs you onward, but…it is of no consequence. Bravery or otherwise will not help your cause. I know why Thorin Oakenshield and his rabble have entered my domain." 

Elizabeth pursed her lips together, her furrowed brow the only give away of her worry, but it was enough as a triumphant smirk crossed Thranduil's lips. "In an effort to return to a distance Lonely Mountain, to reclaim a lost homeland even if means facing the wrath of a dragon," he continued, his voice tone took on a mocking quality to it. Elizabeth continued to keep her silence, even though she felt it was a damning kind. Thranduil spared her another look, a trace of smugness on his aloof features. "There will be no glory, no treasure at the end of your journey, Aldanniel. Only madness, death and dragon fire," he commented, a grave undertone to his voice as his gaze pierced through her. "Surely you must know this? Have you not dreamed of the fire, an endless sea of flames and a sky made out ash?" 

Elizabeth outwardly gave no reaction. Inside, her heart jolted in her chest. Thranduil was one of the few in Middle Earth that had known about her nightmares. It had been unavoidable, for she had stayed with Galadriel in these woods for a series of months and it had been prudent to inform the King of her ailment. It would not due to send everyone into a panic in the middle of the night from a child screaming over a nightmare, after all. "I know that Thorin Oakenshield and his group has done nothing to earn a lifetime in imprisonment in these lands," Elizabeth spoke, her voice surprisingly steady. Thranduil's words like a knife to her heart, and left a cold icy fear in their wake. If the dragon was truly alive, she only had to remember her nightmares to know what devastation it could bring that much was true. But at the same time, Thorin's quest was a noble one and one worth undertaking despite the apparent risks. If once upon a time, she had been given such a chance to reclaim her home, she would have done anything. She would have braved any risk and reward to get it back. 

"You would have me let them go then?" Thranduil asked, his tone indulgent as if he were speaking to a child rather than anyone close to be held with any kind of regard. 

"It would be the right thing to do," Elizabeth said, simply. 

"Then we have a difference out opinion on what the right thing to do is," Thranduil spoke, his head cocking to the side. "But I am not entirely unreasonable. Perhaps we can come to an agreement that will be in the best interest of both of us, hmm?" 

"You may make whatever proposal that you wish, but do not expect me to accept it," she warned him, for she had no intention of bowing to Thranduil's whims. She had always thought the Elven King had prided himself on ruling with a fair hand, but that fairness it seemed only extended to elves. And especially not to dwarves. 

"The dwarves have found a way into the mountain. That much is obvious, and Thorin Oakenshield seeks the King's Jewel that would give him the divine right to rule over the Kingdom once more," Thranduil circled around Elizabeth, his gait languid like a serpent waiting patiently to strike. 

_King's Jewel?_ A flare of pain throbbed through Elizabeth's skull. Her knees wobbled, but somehow she managed to keep standing. She even lifted her gaze to meet Thranduil's when came to stand right in front of her. 

"I understand that. There are gems in the mountain that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. King Thror offered them to me, only to go back upon his word. All I ask if that you make sure that Thorin honors his grandfather's agreement with me," Thranduil stated, his tone all too reasonable and diplomatic. "And I offer you my help in taking back the mountain." 

"O King of the Forest, such an offer is one only a madman would agree to. I can promise you something which is not mine to give, nor will I betray the dwarves' trust in me," Elizabeth said, holding Thranduil's gaze steady. She would not fold beneath this elf's gaze for she had been held underneath the stare of far worse than him. "It means more to me than anything you could barter with." 

"Then I am afraid that I cannot agree to allow you to see them," Thranduil stated, simply. A small mocking smile was upon his lips as if he just discovered something that he had been searching for and he gave a graceful wave his hand, and two guards appeared at her sides. Their hands wrapped around her arms in a vice grip, and she fought back a wince. "Please escort, Lady Elizabeth back to her room and make sure that she does not…wander," Thranduil shot her a slim smirk, and she sent him a glower. However, before the guards could even being to take out Thranduil's orders, the doors opened and Thorin with shackles around his wrists and ankles was ushered in by guards. 

Elizabeth inhaled sharply, "Thorin." She made to move towards him, her hand reaching out for him when the guards grabbed her tightly. She winced as they roughly pulled her back, and fury flashed upon Thorin's face. 

"Unhand her!" Thorin demanded, his voice cold and hard. There was an ache and fierce in his eyes that did not move off Elizabeth's, and his hands were twisted into fists to keep himself from reaching out towards him. 

"You are not in a position to make demands of me," Thranduil drawled, his keen gaze flickered between Elizabeth and Thorin. The edges of his lips curled upward into a small smile. "Lady Aldanniel, I hope that you enjoy your accommodations, but understand this…" His blue eyes looked upon her with a gleam of triumphant at having the upper hand. "Understand while they may be no bars upon your door, Aldanniel, that it is still a cage," Thranduil told her, the corner of his lips flicked upward when a low growl ripped through Thorin. "A gilded one, but a cage nonetheless." 

Thorin's knuckles were white from where he had them clenched so tight. He wanted nothing more to shake off his chains that bound him, and get to Elizabeth's side. He watched as Elizabeth raised her chin, her eyes blazing defiantly, but she allowed the guards to escort her away. Her eyes met Thorin's as she passed by, and she gave him the sadness. Her eyes were screaming at him that she would find them a way out of this before the doors slammed shut between and she was once again lost from his sight. Thorin dragged in a harsh before he looked up at the lofty elven king with a dark glare that promised pain that he would be more than happy to deliver on if he got the chance. 

Thranduil merely smirked. "Your eyes have betrayed you, Thorin Oakenshield. Could it be that your heart desires something other than the treasure of a mountain?" 

Thorin growled. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER!  
> Next Chapter: Thorin calls Thranduil out, a dwarf's life is in danger as well as the Shire, Elizabeth's nightmares take a turn for the worst, and Tauriel and Legolas must choose between following order or doing the right thing. Bilbo and Thorin and Elizabeth work on plotting their escape.  
> Elizabeth's dress: www dot pinterest dot com/pin/511017888944193155/  
> I know! I know! This chapter feels like filler, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. :D If you see errors let me know. :D  
> RRs are appreciated.


	27. The Choking Roots

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 

“The Choking Roots”

“Your eyes have betrayed you, Thorin Oakenshield,” King Thranduil stated, a detached sort of amusement in his voice as the doors closed with a thunderous sound. Could it be that your heart desires something other than the treasure of a mountain?" 

Thorin glowered viciously at the elven king, and his jaw clenched tightly. His nostril flared as he inhaled, wrathfully and he watched Thranduil with the guarded expression one might reserve for a poisonous snake. “Leave Elizabeth out of this,” Thorin demanded, roughly. 

Thranduil dipped his head, with mock humility as he clasped his hands behind him. A smirk tilted the edge of his smile, and his cold eyes burrowed into Thorin. “Alas, I fear I cannot heed such a request. Thane of Rivendell she may be, but she was found conspiring with a group of vagrants and trespassers. I cannot let such actions go unquestioned, and so she is a part of this as you and your company,” the King stated, primly. 

Thorin bared his teeth at the slight that Thranduil gave, but he would be a fool to make a move with two guards flanking his side. He knew how swift and deadly elves could be, and he would not fall on an elvish blade. Not today, nor any day. 

Thranduil’s lips curled. With an elegant flick of his wrist, the King dismissed his guards. They did not wander far, lingering by the doors, but far enough away to give the illusion of privacy. “For the last three days, I have brought you before me and given you a simple offer. The truth for your freedom, and yet every time you spin tales of how you and your company are merely travelers in my woods. That all you sought was a way through the forest, and nothing more,” the King stated, entertained and frustrated by the sheer stubbornness of the dwarf before him. “But I am not interested in tales. I am interested in the truth.” 

Thorin stared at him, his expression unwavering in its distrustfulness and unkindness. He did not move a single inch, save for the rough breaths he drew in through his nose. His eyes glared daggers at the King, and Thranduil just return it with a cool and detached glance. 

“Perhaps I should tell you the truth as I see it?” The King drawled, sardonically. He walked gracefully down the stairs, and the corner of his mouth tilted upward just a fraction. “Some may imagine that a noble quest is at hand. A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive: attempted burglary, or something of that ilk,” Thranduil commented, his tone airy yet he scrutinized Thorin from head to toe. There was a beat where if a pin had dropped it could have been heard all round the giant colossal room. “You have found a way in. You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule: the King’s Jewel, the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure. I understand that.” 

Anger burned in his throat, and pounded in Thorin’s throat. Each word from Thranduil’s mouth tested his control, and his blue eyes were like blue fire attempting to burn Thranduil to a cinder with a stare alone. His bit the side of his cheek so hard to hold his tongue that he tasted blood. 

“There are gems in the mountain that I too desire. White gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help to reclaim the mountain,” said the elven King, with a benevolent smile. “I will let you go—your company, and Lady Aldanniel—if you but return what is mine.” 

Thorin turned, and slowly started to walk away. “A favor for a favor,” he said, his tone flat. He should take the deal for the sake of his company. He should swallow down his pride, and swear to the elven King he will have his jewels. He saw the cruelty of his grandfather when he promised Thranduil the gems that had once belong to his elven Queen, and how he broken it. It would be a wrong that would be righted in this moment, if he could muster up the strength to stomp down his anger. 

“You have my word,” Thranduil swore, a hand above his heart and his head slightly bowed. “One king to another.” 

Thorin stopped, abruptly. His back still faced Thranduil, but there was no mistaken the way his muscles tensed. Thorin should right the wrong done by his grandfather, but he could not swallow his pride. A greater wrong had been done to his people only days afterwards, and Thorin could not forget the smell of burnt flesh. The sound of endless screams. The way families had to leave the bodies of the dead were they laid, and could not properly mourn. He could not forget that. Not now, not ever. 

“I would not trust Thranduil, the great king, to honor his word should the end of all days be upon us!” His deep, gravelly voice sliced through the room, echoing to every crevice and ear that it could striking like shards of ice in a winter storm. Thorin spun around, and lifted his arm to point straight at Thranduil. His face was one of pure fury and his eyes held years of bitterness that boiled to the surface. “You lack all honor! I’ve seen how you treat your friends. We came to you once, starving, homeless, seeking your help, but you turned your back. You turned away from the suffering of my people and the inferno that destroyed us!” 

Thranduil stood there, jaw slackened. No one had every dared to speak to him in such a manner in his own halls, and he could barely believe that a dwarf, even one such a Thorin Oakenshield, would dare to do so. 

“Imrid amrad ursul!” Thorin roared. _Die a death of flames!_

Thranduil leapt forward, his beautiful features twisted into a harsh face and an untold amount of rage rippled through the elven king. He bent at the waist so that his face was only inches from Thorin, and his chest expanded with an enraged breath. “Do not talk to me of dragon fire. I know its wrath and ruin,” Thranduil spat, his voice distorted with his rage had lost its harmonious silky quality completely. His face contorted, old scars hidden by elvish magic revealed themselves. Scars that could have only been made by a blazing inferno, and his left was milky and unseeing. “I have faced the great serpents of the north.” 

Thorin stared in transfixed horror at the sight. 

Thranduil drew away, swiftly and his face returned to normal. He stared down his nose at Thorin before he turned, and walked up the steps to his throne. “I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon, but he would not listen. You had the ability to break from history’s chains, Thorin Oakenshield,” Thranduil said, as he lowered himself gracefully into his throne. “Instead, you choose to be just like him.” 

Thranduil made a swift movement with his hand, and the guards grabbed Thorin. They started to haul him away, and Thranduil watched the sight unblinkingly. “Stay here if you will, and rot. A hundred years is mere blink in the life of an elf. I am patient. I can wait,” the elven king word’s made sure to speak loudly so his words would follow the dwarf all the way down the hallway. He leaned back against his throne when his ears caught a shuffle of feet, and he straightened his spine. His blue eyes riveted to an empty spot in his throne room, and his brows furrowed slightly. He listened for a long moment, and not another noise came. 

“Hmmm.” Thranduil turned his gaze away from the spot, and glanced down at the servant that drew close with a fresh glass of wine. “Fetch me, Tauriel. There is a matter that needs to be discussed.” 

The servant handed him his drink, and he bowed before scurrying away to do Thranduil’s bidding. King Thranduil lifted his cup to his lips, and wondered what trouble he had invited to his kingdom’s doors. 

* * *

Elizabeth glared daggers at the guards as they led her back to her prison cell. King Thranduil made it clear that even though he did not throw her in the dungeon that her room he had granted her in his palace was a jail cell all the same. He knew of the horrors that she endured at the hands of Azog, and he had said it with sole intention of getting a rise out of her. It was subtle intimidation to remind her of who was in charge, and that it most certainly was not her. Over a thousand years had taught the King how people ticked, but he did not know one thing. A thing that put all the King’s maneuvering into jeopardy. 

He may know how to put fear into Elizabeth’s heart. He may even know how to raise Thorin’s hackles, judging by the shouts that had been long left behind. He may have the other dwarves all tightly locked away, but there was something vital that Thranduil did not know of. 

And that was Bilbo Baggins. 

She had not seen him since the very first day here. She assumed the constant guards kept him at bay, and he had yet to find a way to sneak back in. While it would ease her mind greatly to her friend, the dwarves needed to know they were not forgotten and to know that all hope was not lost more than she did. The doors closed behind her, and Elizabeth winced at the sound before she realized she was not alone in the room. “To what do I owe the honor of your company, Prince Legolas?” She asked, giving the Prince of Mirkwood a gimlet-eyed stare. 

“Aldanniel,” Legolas said, “there is no need for titles between us.” 

“Is there not?” Elizabeth drawled. Her eyes flickered to the female elf that stood only a few feet beyond his shoulder with fabrics held in her arms. “Who is your friend?” 

Legolas glanced at the elf, and his expression slightly contrite. “The royal seamstress,” Legolas explained, with a detached sort of amusement. “She’s here to take your measurements.” 

That gave Elizabeth a moment’s pause. Her face scrunched up, and she stared at Legolas like she had didn’t hear him right. When he made no effort to take back his words nor change them, her eyebrows climbed upward towards her hairline. She folded her arms over her chest, and eyed the seamstress then the prince with a suspicious look. “And why would I need a seamstress, Legolas? I’m a prisoner, not a guest,” she reminded him, caustically. 

Legolas let out a soundless sigh. “Prisoner or not, my father wishes for you to join us for dinner,” Legolas extended the invitation, genially. “He would be very disappointed with a refusal.” 

Elizabeth scoffed underneath her breath. “For the last four days, I have been locked away in this room with nothing, but my pacing for company. Brief unfamiliar faces bringing food or drink that stay for not even a single word, and now all of the sudden the King desires my presence?” Elizabeth asked, scathingly. 

Legolas drew in a deep breath, and then waved the seamstress to leave. After the elven woman had disappeared behind the doors, the blond elf turned towards Elizabeth. “Aldanniel, I know that you are angry,” Legolas spoke, his tone soft and quiet. “But acting insolent towards my father will do you no favors, nor garner any for the dwarves.” 

“This is not mere anger, Legolas,” she said, with a sharp shake of her head. Her discolored eyes looked up at him with a sad expression. “I’m disappointed. I had thought you all above such pettiness…” She ran her fingers through her hair, and turned away from the elven prince. “I will have to decline such a generous invitation, Legolas, since I doubt my dwarven companions were extended the same courtesy. I will not sit at the King’s table, eat and talk when I know they are locked up tight in the dungeon below.” 

Legolas looked unsurprised by her answer. “And what should I tell my father?” He lifted a questioning brow. 

Elizabeth turned slowly to face him, and folded her arms over her chest. “Tell the King that he’ll just have to live with the disappointment,” she stated, the corner of her mouth lifted into a smirk. 

* * *

Bilbo’s heart thudded in his chest. He stood immobile in the throne room, and his eyes were locked on the doors that the guards had taken Thorin through. There had been no way to slip by them. It was too close for comfort, and he just hoped that he had not missed his only chance. He gnawed on his lower lip, and then he froze when he saw the elven king rise up out of his throne. “I know that you are there,” Thranduil stated, a curious tilt to his mouth. “Why do you linger in the shadows?” 

A stricken expression crossed Bilbo’s features, and he felt molten fear boil through his veins. Had he been found out? Does his invisibility not work? His breath hitched in his throat, and he stood there with his heart beating wildly until the red headed guardswoman stepped around the corner and into plain sight. 

This must be the Tauriel he had sent for. “I was told you had need of me, your majesty,” Tauriel spoke once she stood before the king. Her head was bowed, and arm braced across her chest in a show of respect. 

“Yes. I heard rumors that one of the dwarf was ill in the dungeons and you endeavor to heal him,” Thranduil commented, his tone idle. 

Tauriel lowered her arm, but did not raise her chin. “I have, my lord,” said the younger elf, her tone soft and quiet. 

“Why?” Thranduil drawled. 

Tauriel’s lips tightened at the ends. “He was poisoned by the forest water, and is not strain to attempt to heal. Also the leader is already…impertinent, and the death of one of his companions will make him less agreeable,” said Tauriel, with a reasonable tone. 

“Hmmm.” Thranduil hummed, softly. His fingertips danced along his chin as he raked a speculative look across Tauriel from head to toe. “Very well. Continue with your attempts to heal the dwarf, as long as it does not deplete our resources. Now,” he said, with a frown on his lips, “onto more important matters. I thought I ordered that nest to be destroyed not two moons past.” 

“We cleared the forest as ordered, my lord, but more spiders keep coming up from the south,” Tauriel stated, lightly. “They are spawning in the ruins of Dol Guldur; if we could kill them at their source—” 

Thranduil did not wait for her to finish. “That fortress lies beyond our borders. Keep our lands clear of those foul creatures, that is your task.” 

“And when we drive them off, what then? Will they not spread to other lands?” Tauriel challenged, raising her gaze to meet the King’s in a way that few would dare. 

Thranduil gave her a hard look. “Other lands are not my concern. The fortunes of the world will rise and fall, but here in this kingdom, we will endure.” 

Bilbo swallowed, then snuck down the hallway as quietly as he could. 

Thranduil heard a noise, and looked once again to see nothing. His brows drew together, but after a second, his gaze swept back towards Tauriel. “Legolas said you fought well today. You have done well in your time as Guard Captain, and I’m pleased that my trust in you was not misplaced.” 

A faint smile curved Tauriel’s lips. 

“A word of caution…have a care which battles you choose, Tauriel,” Thranduil rose from his throne as he spoke. He at the bottom step for a heartbeat to look down at his Guard Captain with an impassive expression upon his flawless features. “Raised alongside Legolas you may have been, but I am your King. I can be nothing more, and if I have to I will remind you of that.” 

Without another word, he swept off followed by his squire and Tauriel was left there in the throne room with a look of worry upon her face. 

* * *

A finger traced the intricate pattern carved into the tile floor, and Elizabeth pressed her cheek soaking up the coolness of floor. She had laid there for nearly an hour with her knees drawn up to her chest, and her eyes were unfocused. She inhaled quietly, then gnawed on her lower lip. Not a single person had shown up all day. Probably Thranduil’s way to punish her for her dismissal of his invitation, and honestly, it was the most peaceful day that she had here. 

She didn’t have to worry about the probing eyes of the elves that brought her food. The speculative glances that struck like hail in a violent storm, and she was able to breathe a little easier. Yet that did not stop the constant thoughts that ran through her mind on repeat. She had no idea where the dwarves were, or how they were doing. _How far are you away from me? How is Thranduil treating you?_ Elizabeth thought, pressing her thumb into the carved line with a painful force. She barely felt it of stone against her skin, and she closed her eyes slowly. 

They could survive this. They had survived every bump in the road so far, and they would survive this forest and it’s King. Her jaw clenched as the resolution took root in her heart, and she swore slightly that no matter what that she would get the dwarves out of here. No matter what. 

The door creaked open, and Elizabeth rolled over slightly to see a finely dressed elf stepped forward. There was arrogance that came off of him in waves, and by his manner of dress he must be a servant of high ranking. 

“What?” Elizabeth asked, unkindly. Her Ada would be appalled that she would use such a tone, but she was pretty sure he would forgive her given the circumstances. 

“The King request you join them for supper,” the servant stated, primly. 

“No,” Elizabeth rolled back over. 

“The King is not asking.” 

Elizabeth hadn’t gone quietly. 

Not when they shoved her into the bathing area (“I can wash myself!” Elizabeth shouted, at a female servant that attempt to help her), not when they pulled the strings on her corset tightly, and she would not make nice at the King’s table. Yet she knew better to fight when a whole herd of servants had stomped through the door Elizabeth had known that there was no way to refuse the King’s request. Not without blooding some noses, and that would hardly help her position now, would it? Besides, they could hardly help the fact their King was an utter ass. Muttering unflattering oaths under her breath, and she took glee in every scandalize gasp she drew from those attending her in hopes they would flee. Perhaps the dwarves behavior had rubbed off on her, and as far as she could tell that was a very good thing. 

She stared grimly into the mirror at her painted face, and hated feeling the layers of maquillage caked onto to her skin. Her red lips were twisted downward, and her eyes flared with an inner light. The color of them seemed more severe than Elizabeth recalled, and as the elves pulled her hair back, she realized if it was not just her imagination. Her stomach dropped, and she leaned forward, ignoring the hiss it got from the elf tugging on her stubborn hair. With an unsteady hand, her fingers touched the mirror and her throat bobbed. 

She sat there like that long after the elf had finished her hair, and left with a bow. Fear like slide through her veins like mercury, and her heart thumped against her ribcage with all the force of a wild warg. A knot welled back in her throat, and choked her like a weed choked the life out of a green garden. Her eyes were worse than before, and fear spiked white-hot in her blood veins. The colors in her eyes were deeper and brighter. The stems of obsidian seemed to move and pulse every so slightly. 

The curse _was_ getting _worse_. 

Elizabeth felt as if the earth had been dropped right from underneath her, and that any given second she would follow. Her fingernails bit into flesh of her palm, and she clenched her eyes closed tightly so she could not see them. Thoughts of the curse had fallen to the wayside until she saw her reflection staring directly back at her. Her heart contracted painfully in her chest, and tears burned against her eyelids. Her chest shuddered with a raspy breath and she felt something inside of start to crack. Something that threatened to crumble, and she couldn’t let it fall apart. She couldn’t afford to breakdown, not now. She didn’t know long she sat there, but she didn’t move until a gentle hand landed on her shoulder. Slowly she drew in a breath, and peeled her eyes open to stare up at Legolas. 

The Prince’s brows were drawn together, and his blue eyes were filled with silent concern. “I have come to escort you to supper,” whispered Legolas, his voice sounded so faint to her ears. 

“Oh,” the syllable dropped from her lips like a broken note in a sad song. Her expression was lost and vulnerable. 

The Prince faltered for a moment, then knelt down beside her chair. His head titled to the side, and his blue eyes flickered across her face as a knot of worry formed upon his brow. “Elizabeth, if you are truly unwell then I can inform my father…” Legolas offered, lightly. 

“It’s not that…I knew your father would not take no for an answer forever. He wishes to greatly to find a way to strong arm Thorin into an arrangement for those gems, and feels that I’m the chink in his armor,” Elizabeth scoffed, her lips a severe line on her face. Her eyes hardened at the room around her, and she hoped that she would never see them again once she and the Company were gone from this place. “I’m surprised he hasn’t had me dragged from this room sooner.” 

“But that is not what worries you,” Legolas commented, an attentive gaze on her face. “We were friends once, Aldanniel. I would still call you such despite the dismal circumstance we find ourselves in, and would listen if you have a concern to share. I may not be able change the King’s decision, but I can at least do this.” 

Elizabeth almost pointed out that Legolas believed his father was in the right with his decision on the dwarves, but was not so petty to point it out. Not when the concern that the Prince was showing came from a genuine place in his heart. He did not ask about the dwarves. He wasn’t trying to use their friendship to lower her defenses for his father’s means, and the wariness that had coiled up tight in her heart loosened. Her shoulders dropped, and suddenly she felt so very old. “My curse is getting worse,” Elizabeth said, softly. 

Legolas inhaled, sharply. “I had thought Mirthrandir was helping you in finding a way to end the curse,” the elven Prince said, in a hushed tone. 

“He was. He is,” Elizabeth said, her fingers knotted into the skirt of her dress. Her lips trembled, and her face was bloodless as a shaken expression settled over it. “I have come to care for the dwarves. They have…they have managed to become quite dear to me over the length of this journey, but I will…admit that I did not just come on this quest to help them reclaim their home. I mean, I want to help give them a home. I know how it feels to be without one, and how it feels to have one striped from me by forces beyond my control. But to say my reasons for this journey are purely altruistic would be dishonest of me.” 

“Other than helping the dwarves reclaim their mountain, what other reason could you have for helping them?” Legolas questioned, his head tilted slightly. 

“Gandalf…” Her shoulders rose as she took in a deep breath, and blinked by the wave of tears that threatened to fall. “Gandalf believes the answer to my curse could be found at the end of this adventure. If it ends here…” 

Legolas did not move, not even blink for several moments. “If it ends here…it could mean the end for you as well,” the Prince said, his voice very soft. “Or that is what you fear.” 

“Yes,” said Elizabeth, her breath shook. “I know that’s a selfish thought given there is so much more than me at stake, but I cannot help it. With all that had been going on, I had pushed it to the back of my mind, but after seeing my eyes…” She glanced up into the looking glass, and her jaw clenched tightly. “It came rushing back. The fact that I’m living on borrowed time. That I’m _always_ living on borrowed time.” 

Legolas’s face softened. It was the first time he looked like the Prince she knew all those years ago, and he took her hand in his. “Any help that I can give it is yours, my friend,” he told her, earnestly. 

Elizabeth just gave him a sad, wistful smile. “You don’t know uncertainty, do you, Legolas? You have had uncertain moments, yes, but you’ve never spent a lifetime with it,” said Elizabeth, her eyes flickered across the Prince’s face, and she shook her head slightly. “How it feels to wonder if the next moment will be your last. If the next breath will be the last one you ever draw in, or waiting for the next heartbeat and fear it will never come. Those are on my fears, and I bear them every day. That uncertain is one I know all too intimately, and so do the dwarves down there in that dungeon. Until you can truly fathom it, then there is no help that you can offer.” 

* * *

Bilbo had not realized how used to the dwarves he had gotten. The constant noises they made during the day and night did not leave prolonged silences. The noise they had brought into his quiet life, he missed it keenly. The silence weighed upon him heavily, and he felt dreadfully weary. The first night, he had stayed in the room with Elizabeth, but neither of them slept. The second day he had slipped out, and hadn’t seen her but the brief moment in the throne room. He had stayed outside of Thorin’s cell and had followed him into his meeting with the King. Now he roamed down the hallways, quiet as a mouse when he passed the servants and other elves that rushed about. 

A great festival started this night from what he gathered, and would last well into the week. That made the halls all that more dangerous for him. He dared not to march among them because of his shadow—though thin and distorted by the torchlight—or to be bumped into and discovered. His heart had nearly expired in his chest when he thought the King had discovered him, and he did not wish to feel that way again, thank you very much. He wandered the palace, and committed as much as he could to memory. The gates were sealed with magic, and he only dared to sneak out of them only once. Companies of the Wood-elves, sometimes with the king at their head, would from time to time ride out to hunt, or to other business in the woods and in the lands to the East. 

He had slipped out just behind him, but he would not do so again. He had nearly be caught in the doors when he had dared to sneak back inside. This was no way to help the company escape. The doors shut too swiftly for all of them to escape at once, and a group that size would be spotted instantly unlike an invisible hobbit. He would have to find them another way out where they could slip off relatively unseen. 

And he could not desert the dwarves. No matter how much his doubts of helping them escape here unscathed seemed to grow as the hours dragged onward. He managed to nip food from tables and the kitchens. Little scraps that would go unnoticed. _I am like a burglar that can't get away, but must go on miserably burgling the same house day after day,_ he thought, miserably. He thought about sending word to Gandalf, but he had no means to do so. It was not like he could ask someone to deliver it. 

He needed to get back down to the dungeons. He needed to map out in his head where each and every dwarf was, and then a plan to sneak them out from there. So with a weary heart and exhausted mind, Bilbo descended into the darker places of the fortress. His only hope was that soon all of them would be free from this dull and dreadful place. 

* * *

With her arm linked with Legolas, Elizabeth followed the Prince through the great winding hallway to the great hall where the elves had gathered for their festival of starlight. Her stomach seethed at the sight of the dinner-tables and the number of delicacies that covered them. The halls were lavish in every sense with its finely cooked and abundances of food. To the pale moonlight silk entwined with the gentle golds that weaved from column to column; the torchlight playing off them giving the illusion of hidden stars with in the beautiful fabrics. Music strung from harps and flutes floated through the air as a female voice began to sing a song in elven tongue. Her eyes found Thranduil at the head table, two empty chairs on either side of him. 

She took strength from Legolas’s unfaltering gait, and they made their way up the long aisle. Joyous laughter filled the air, and some elves had taken to dancing. The lighthearted merriment could not remove the worry that strained her expression. Her thoughts were filled with chains and cells and the welfare of her dwarves. And they were hers—she thought with a possessiveness like an alpha female in a pack of wolves—and she could not in good conscious enjoy this starlight festival when knowing they were trapped in dank cells below. 

A stiff smile settled upon her lips as they reached the King’s table, she did not allow herself to be anything more than polite and a cold politeness at that. Her heart felt like the blacken with despair and helplessness. The unfairness of Thranduil’s judgment could not be lifted no matter how much beauty or wonder surrounded her. 

“I see that you have finally seen fit to join us, Aldanniel,” Thranduil was the first to speak, and he waved his hands towards the seat. “Please be seated. It has been a great deal of time that we had a guest for the festival of starlight. It is a most joyous occasion as you are well remember no doubt.” 

“Yes, I remember,” Elizabeth said, her tone starchy. She lowered herself into the seat after a servant had pulled it out, and held herself with all the dignity of a lady that she had been taught to be. She would not be cowered by Thranduil, and would not allow him to see the uncertainty that laid inside her heart. “So here I am as you have requested. Legolas tells me that I have your seamstress to thank for the dress. She is quite skilled for she saw me all of a moment, and needed not to taken a single measurement to craft a dress that fits perfectly.” 

It was not a lie. The champagne silk fabric flowed as light as air around her legs, and the fitted bodice her embraced her form as intimately as a lover. Leaves and vines had been stitched all along the bodice and into the sheer lace sleeves that went down to her wrists. The bateau neckline was rather scandalous though it went no lower than her collarbone, and bared her shoulders to the world. The dress was charmingly crafted, everything about it was high quality, though she would expect nothing less from the seamstress that the King. Her silky hair had been twisted up around her head, like a crown, and secured with a pearl encrusted hairpin. Yet the dress and all the finery felt little more comforting than noose around her throat. 

“I will give her your regards,” Thranduil dipped his head, his expressionless mask unchanging. His icy gaze stared out at his people, watching them soak up the joy of the night with a quiet detachment. There was little said after that for a great while, and Elizabeth fought the urge to fidget in her seat. Her hands clasped tightly in her lap as the food was put on plates, and set in front of them. They ate in silence, the clink of silverware barely heard amongst all the merriment, and the bites of food Elizabeth managed to eat may have very well been ash. Each luxury that she was afforded only enhanced the feeling of guilt that stirred in the pit of her stomach, and she could not help it. She did not do well when she felt helpless, and in this moment, she had no real power to get the dwarves out. _Dear Eru, please let Bilbo be far more successful than I_ , she prayed, silently. 

“This could have not come at better time,” Legolas commented, his tone held a quiet relief. “With all the strife in the forest as of late, the people have little to celebrate and take joy in.” 

A stab of pity hit Elizabeth. “I imagine not with the shadow that lingers in the forest,” she whispered, her eyes flickered across the sea of elves. The stagnant fear that had been in the air had thinned, almost vanished completely, but it was far from forgotten. It could not be forgotten for while spirits had been lifted for this moment, the cold reality would settle back in soon after. 

“And what would you know of such darkness?” Thranduil commented, drawing himself away from his thoughts. He raised a great eyebrow in Elizabeth’s direction, and lifted his goblet to peer over it at her. 

“I know that it’s dark, and deep. I know that it was to poison the very roots of this forest, and watch it die,” Elizabeth replied, softly. “It is hatred unlike anything I have ever seen.” 

Thranduil hummed underneath his breath. “Have you not?” The light question hung in the air for all of a moment, before he waved his hand as if dismissing the thought. “Tell me, how fares the Last Homely House. I have not seen Lord Elrond in several decades, and word is scarcely heard from outside our boarders.” 

If Elizabeth had been a less noble soul, she would have pointed out that the King had complicit in that. He had pulled his people from the forest, and closed off his Kingdom. Those walls that had protected them had also crippled them, and she wondered if the forest king was aware of that. “The valley fares well. Other than a few hoards of bold orcs, they have not had any troubles,” Elizabeth said, her tone calm. “I’m sure that it would please my father if he were to hear from you.” 

Thranduil gave a light huff of amusement. He was aware that her words were nothing more than formal politeness than held any genuine truth. It was well documented his rivalry with Elrond throughout the centuries, and though letters occasionally passed, they were filled with veiled insults. “Perhaps, I shall send him a missive about the company that his daughter keeps,” he stated, with a slanted smirk. “Such unseemly behavior for a lady to travel un-chaperoned with a large group of male dwarves. What will wagging tongues say?” 

Legolas gave a long suffering sigh, and place his hand over his face in a not very princely manner. “Ada,” he groaned, unable to believe his father would sink this low right now. 

“Lord Elrond knows about the dwarves, and welcomed them into his halls,” Elizabeth said, saccharinely. Her red lips were pulled into a too wide smile while her eyes flashed. If he wished to sling veiled insults, she could match him. She would not be talked about in such a manner, nor would she allow him to insinuate such things about the Company. “A far warmer welcome than we received here, at any rate.” 

A slight to Thranduil’s generosity was a heavy one, though it may not appear so on the surface. It was so much more than that. It was not only a slight against Thranduil personally, but his kingdom as well. A King’s kingdom was a matter of pride, and her words hit their mark. A dark expression rolled across Thranduil’s face, and he sat straighter in his chair so that he could tower of her more efficiently. “Praytell, Aldanniel, are you a gambler by nature?” 

Her eyes narrowed at the sudden change in subject, and a suddenly weary feeling swept over her. “I know not what you mean,” she said, carefully. 

“I had believed you to be practical, efficient, but after our recent conversation, I no longer believe it so,” said the King, running a graceful finger around the rim of his wine glass. “I have to ponder if you always so whimsically with the fate of you and yours.” 

Elizabeth bristled, but bit the inside of her cheek sharply to hinder the cutting remark that was poised on the tip of her tongue. She delicately swallowed the bite of food down with a sparingly sip of wine, for she wished to keep a clear head when dealing with King Thranduil and Mirkwood wine was notorious for its potency. “If you mean to imply that because I will not bargain with you over a treasure that is not mine to give that I am somehow neglecting my duty to the Company than I’m afraid that will have to disagree, your majesty,” Elizabeth said, her tone polite yet all the same cold. “The loyalty that the dwarves have given me is not one that I intend to break. If you thought the invitation to dine with you would soften my resolve you are greatly mistaken.” 

Thranduil would have been quite the card player, Elizabeth noted. His face revealed nothing, not that she expected a trace of emotion there. When his thoughts showed on his face, it was because he allowed you to see them. So when a moment passed, and a look of pity appeared on the King’s face. 

Elizabeth turned away from him. The look striking her in a way that left her angrier and upset than his words had. Her chest rose with a wrathful breath, and she focused on the elf maiden that was singing a beautiful song. She lifted her goblet to her lips, and tried to let the soothing words flow across her. It felt as soothing as a bucket of water on a hissing cat, and she hated that Thranduil had stirred such hostility in her heart. Her mind wandered as she mentally started to count the seconds, and prayed that the next she would be taken back to her pretty lock up to be left alone. 

“Do you still sing, Aldanniel?” Legolas asked, lightly. He hoped that he could ease the tension that crackled in the air around them. “I remember you being quite fond of it.” 

Elizabeth paused, caught off guard by Legolas comment. She set her drink down soundlessly on the table, and mused over his question. She had been told she had a good singing voice, but she did not sing in front of crowds. A childhood bashfulness that had long survived throughout the years, and only a handful of people had ever heard her sing out loud. It had been a private affair with Lady Galadriel whom Legolas was showing around the gardens. Elizabeth had been singing underneath her breath as she fluttered around the garden taking in the joy of so many flowers, and had been mortified to find the elves had stopped their conversations to listen. 

“I fear that it is a pastime that I haven’t indulged greatly in recent days,” admitted Elizabeth, looking at the elven Prince out of the corner of her eye. “I fear that I haven’t had a great reason to sing in a long while.” 

“A shame,” Legolas said. “You sung quite well as I recall.” 

“Indeed. Lady Galadriel said you had a voice as sweet as a bird’s,” Thranduil commented, loftily. “Such talents should be shared, should they not?” 

Elizabeth peered up at the King, with a guarded expression on her face. One she was irritated he interrupted a perfectly innocuous conversation with Legolas, and secondly, if he thought she was sing for him then he had gone senile. She almost scoffed outloud at the idea, and was about to tell him that she would rather share the pointy end of arrow with him than any song when a spark of inspiration hit her. “You are well aware of my aversion to singing in front of crowd,” she said, her tone chary. The cogs of her mind turned as furiously as the rapids did during a flood, and she tilted her head to the side. “Yet, I can perhaps get over such fears for something in return.” 

Thranduil’s brow lifted, intrigued. “And what price would you charge for the pleasure of your singing voice?” The elven King asked, haughtily. 

Elizabeth drew in a deep breath, she steeled her resolve and tried to not let hope worm its way into her heart. “I will sing one song for you,” whispered Elizabeth, her voice nearly inaudible, “if you will allow me to see Thorin.” 

A furrow formed upon the King’s brow. His narrowed blue eyes swept across her face, and she could see the automatic denial form in his mind when something inexplicably soften. He ran his fingers across his lips thoughtfully before he let out a small sigh. “My, my, you are a tenacious thing, aren’t you? Tenacious in spirit and in deed, but even the most tenacious of flowers cannot grow underneath the shadow of the mountain, Aldanniel,” Thranduil commented, with a deep frown upon his face. “There is no light to nurture them, and warm them. They grow cold, and wither, and die.” 

Elizabeth stared at him, defiantly. If there was even a chance that he would agree, she had to try. She could swallow down her childish fear, and sing a song if it would give her a chance to see Thorin. “And caged birds rarely sing, but impossible things happen every day. So,” she said, lifting her chin and would not allow his words to plant fears inside of her, “do you agree to my terms, or not?” 

She could hear the roar of her heartbeat against her eardrums, and her chest shuddered with shallow breaths as she waited for Thranduil’s reply. She saw Legolas out of the corner of her eyes also look expectantly at his father, and finally Thranduil drew himself. Whatever emotions had appeared on his face had ceased to exist, and the perfected mask in its place. “I suppose it would not hurt to indulge your request,” Thranduil drawled out, lazily. “Perhaps you can help Thorin Oakenshield see the error of his decision where all other persuasion has failed.” 

A cold knot twisted in her gut at the thought of whatever persuasion the King ordered to be used, and she only prayed that her imagination was much worse than the reality. “As your guest, it is my right to gift you the song of my chose,” Elizabeth rose from the table as the current song faded, “and I have a wonderful one in mind that I believe shall please, your majesty.” 

Thranduil’s eyes flickered, and a sardonic smile twisted upon his lips. “Then by all means, the floor is all yours, Lady Aldanniel,” the King said, all too magnanimously. He spoke loudly so the rest of the hall quieted, and looked expectantly. 

Elizabeth clutched the fabric of her skirt between knuckle white fingers, in an attempt to steel her nerves. Her jaw trembled, and a cold sweat broke out along the nape of her neck. She ran through the elven songs that she knew word for word, and had decided on the song of Elbereth, Queen beyond the Western Seas. The first line was poised on the tip of her tongue, but when her eyes fell upon Thranduil’s smug expression, a rebellious feeling rose in her chest. He thought he had they were cornered like a cat had a mouse, and thought he was close to breaking their spirits in order to get what he wanted. _We may be trapped_ , Elizabeth thought, _but we are not broken._

She drew in a deep breath, and straightened her posture so she could sing more deeply, and the notes be sweeter as they rolled off her tongue. _“The world was young, the mountains green, No stain yet on the Moon was seen_ ,” she sang, her voice pitched low, and her eyes never strayed from Thranduil’s. It was a battle of wills, and she refused to back down. _“No words were laid on stream or stone, when Durin woke and walked alone.”_

The confusion lifted from Thranduil’s face when he realized she was singing a dwarven song, and his eyes sharpened. Murmurs sprang up from all around her, so soft that she could not make them out, but she could see faces of awe and shock out of the corner of her eye. How audacious they must think her, to sing such a song and present it to their king as a gift. 

_“He named the nameless hills and dells; he drank from yet untasted wells,”_ Elizabeth’s voice grew louder as she gained strength from the slack jaw response she received, and still she did not look away from the King. She wanted him to see her complete strength and loyalty that was unwavering for the Company, and most of all, Thorin. She wanted him to see that no matter what, it would remain unbroken. _“He stooped and looked in Mirrormere, and saw a crown of stars appear, as gems upon a silver thread, above the shadow of his head.”_

Her voice echoed like bells through the room, and she was pleased her voice only wavered in the slightest. Her nerves had the muscles in the back on her neck pulled tight, and she could fell her throat tightened to stifle her voice. Instead, her fingernails bit painfully into her palms and that pain gave her the strength to push through. _“A king he was on carven throne in many-pillared halls of stone with golden roof and silver floor, and runes of power upon the door. The light of sun and star and moon in shining lamps of crystal hewn undimmed by cloud or shade of night there shone for ever fair and bright.”_

Thranduil’s disbelief at her daring was only shown through the darkened color of his eyes, and he looked like he wished for nothing more to have his guards haul her out of his halls. Yet he stayed his hand, and continued to listen. Perhaps, he was so shocked to hear a dwarven song in his native elvish tongue that he could only sit there and stare. 

_“The world is grey, the mountains old, the forge's fire is ashen-cold; No harp is wrung, no hammer falls: the darkness dwells in Durin's halls,”_ Elizabeth sang, her voice softening with sorrow and anguish. Imagines of cold and shadowed halls filled her mind, covered in a thick layer of ash where nothing, but ghost dared dwelled. _“The shadow lies upon his tomb in Moria, in Khazad-dûm. But still the sunken stars appear in dark and windless Mirrormere; There lies his crown in water deep, till Durin wakes again from sleep.”_

The final note echoed, and lingered in the halls. The tension in the air had been drawn taunt, and felt like it could snap at any given moment. Elizabeth held her breath as she waited for Thranduil’s reaction, and his blue eyes bore into her as if it pierce her very soul. Her heart thumped against her ribs, as silence descended upon the hall and each second ticked by like an eternity. She needed to see Thorin as greatly as she needed to breathe, but she could see that small possibility dwindle before her very eyes. Even if Thranduil did break the fragile agreement, she could not bring herself to regret her actions and her lips curled into a smile. 

The dwarves would have greatly approved. 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER!
> 
> Next Chapter: The Company gains an ally, Thorin and Elizabeth come to a realization, and a daring escape plot is hatched.
> 
> Again I apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I lost all my writings, original and fanfiction, so I’ve been slowly building back. I hope that you all have enjoyed, and thank you all for being so patient with me.
> 
>  
> 
> RRs are appreciated. Thank you all!


	28. We Shall Not Falter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was posted on ffnet on Jan. 10, 2017.
> 
> Gandalf's dialogue is there now. Edited: 3/27/2017

Chapter Twenty-Eight 

“We Shall Not Falter”

* * *

Silently, Tauriel worked, dipping the rag into the water basin and wringing it out before she placed it gently upon Bombur’s forehead. No healers were willing to tend to the sick dwarf any longer, claiming his feverish tantrums were frightful, so the Captain of the Guard had taken it upon herself. A sleep murmur of thanks escaped the sick dwarf that would likely not have been giving if he were indeed in good health and had all his wits about him. Not that Tauriel was looking for gratitude from the dwarves, but as the Guard Captain, it was her duty to watch over the prisoners. Just because they were locked in cells did not mean they were to be treated barbarically, though Tauriel had not seen the leader of the dwarves, and she had a foreboding sensation that the King had sent him to lower depths. Anyone sent there was at the mercy of King Thranduil, and there was nothing she could do without invoking treason. 

Sighing, she pushed such thoughts away. Such burdens were fruitless, and not hers to bear, and yet there was a disquiet feeling in her heart that she could not shake. Tauriel reached down to pull the thin rag of a blanket more securely over Bombur, promising herself silently that she would have a word with whomever brought these so called blankets down here. They were barely fit to clean the floors, let alone be used to keep warm. 

Turning her attention to the herbs that she had grounded into a bowl, she pulled her flask from her waist to add just a hint of water so that it was more of a liquid and less of a paste. She was mindful of the dark eyes that followed her every movement, and she kept her face low, so the shadows hid the slight slip in her composure. In nearly a century, nothing had unnerved or flustered her. Having to deal with Prince Legolas’s antics, a suitor who thought best to present himself naked in her sleeping chambers, and the pressure of King Thranduil’s expectation, all of that had not made her falter. 

Yet a dark haired dwarf where he sat, shackled in case he tried anything, with his mere stare had unnerved her, and it both frustrated and intrigued her in equal measure. She wished to question him, and demanded what about her had fascinated him so greatly. Yet she stifled such curiosities for it was not the time for them. Carefully, she helped Bombur sip the medicine and greatly he did not put a fight, like the healers had claimed. The task only took a matter of minutes, and once she was done, she rose to leave when she caught the dark haired dwarf looking at something in his hand before he flipped it in the air, his shackles clanking with the movement and caught in on the back of his hand. 

“The stone in your hand, what is it?” She asked, with a frown. She had thought all the dwarves had been searched, and all items taken off of them. 

Kili quirked up an eyebrow at her. “It is a talisman. A powerful spell lies upon it. If any but a dwarf reads the runes on this stone,” he said, with a the straightest face he could muster, “they will be forever cursed.” 

Tauriel took a step back when held up the stone quickly towards her, her heart flipped slightly, and she turned to walk away out of the cell when the dwarf suddenly laughed. 

“Or not, depending on whether you believe that kind of thing. It’s just a token,” Kili smiled, amused. 

Tauriel smiled before she could help it, for no elf would dare to tease her in such a manner given her rank. For a brief moment, she found that she was pleased that this dwarf was not the same because it was a nice change from the everyday normalcy that she endured. Then she immediately dismissed the absurd feeling, and schooled her features into something more subdued. “What is it truly, if you don’t mind my asking?” 

Kili ran the pad of his thumb across the stone, and for a moment was silent, because the stone was priceless to him. The meaning of it priceless to him, but something in his heart bid him to confide in the red headed elf. “A runestone. My mother gave it to me so I’d remember my promise,” Kili finally spoke, his tone very soft and he held the elf’s eyes. 

“What promise?” Tauriel asked, quietly. 

“That I will come back to her.” 

Tauriel’s expression twisted with pain before she could help it, and she looked down, away from the dwarf and his stare. The words were too close to home than the dwarf could have ever known. It brought forth a memory so many centuries ago where she had been given such a promise by her parents, and they had been unable to keep it. How the grief of it had changed her, and hardened her heart against ever letting anyone ever have the ability to cause her that pain ever again. 

“She worries. She thinks I’m reckless.” 

“Are you?” Tauriel looked at him out of the corner of her eye. 

“Nah,” he replied, with a mischievous smile that undermined such a statement. He tossed up his stone, but he was slow to catch, his fingertips grazed it in the air sending it flying away from him. It hit the floor with a light thud, and it rolled towards a small crack in the floor, but deep enough that it could lodged in there with no way to get it out. His heart slammed into his throat, but before the stone could roll any further, Tauriel stopped it with her foot. 

Kili watched with anxiety and relief as she picked it up off the floor. She inspected it with a curious eye, and a surprisingly gentle hand. Kili found himself watching those sleek long fingers for more than he should, but thankfully distraction came from the laughter in the distance. “Sounds like quite a party you’re having up there.” 

“It is Merethen Gilith, the Feast of Starlight. All light is sacred to the Eldar, but Wood Elves love best the light of the stars,” Tauriel explained, lightly. She did not wish him to believe the elves took merriment in their imprisonment, and her eyes looked up at the ceiling, as if to trace where the stars were up above from memory alone. 

“I always thought it is a cold light, remote and far away,” Kili admitted, honestly. 

Tauriel froze, a brief shock flickered across her face before she turned towards him. “It is memory, precious and pure. Like your promise,” Tauriel told him, earnestly. A small smile pulled at her lips, and she handed Kili back his stone. Her smooth fingertips brushed his callous ones, and she pulled her hand away more quicker than she meant to. Clearing her throat, she looked away from him. “I have walked there sometimes, beyond the forest and up into the night. I have seen the world fall away and the white light forever fill the air.” 

“I saw a fire moon once. It rose over the pass near Dunland, huge; red and gold it was, filled the sky. We were an escort for some merchants from Ered Luin, they were trading in Silverbuck for furs,” Kili recounted, suddenly. “We took the Greenway south, keeping the mountain to our left, and then, this huge fire moon, right in our path. I wish I could show you...” Kili cut off, startled by his admission, and then heat scorched his cheeks. He couldn’t believe he just said. Mahal’s left nutsack, where had that come from? What had he been thinking? 

Tauriel did not tease, or laugh at him. Her lips parted in shock, and her eyes narrowed slightly, as if uncertain of what she had heard. She drew in a deep breath, a faint pink rose to her cheeks before she could stop it, and her hands curled into loose fists at her sides. “I…I fear I have neglected my duties too long,” she stated, primly. “I must get back to them before I am sought out, and…” 

“And found consorting with dwarves?” Kili finished, dryly. 

Tauriel gave him a quelling look, but did not correct him. She made her way to the cell door, and paused only long enough to say over her shoulder, “I’ll send someone to check upon your friend. The medicine I gave him should stifle the growing fever, and I have great hopes for his recovery.” 

Kili watched the elven maiden call for the guard on duty to unlock the gate, and when she was on the other side of the door, a sudden need to say something more bubbled up inside of him. “Thank you,” Kili stated, quickly. He met her eyes through the bars of the door, and a sheepish expression crossed his features. “For helping Bombur.” 

Tauriel gave him a fleeting, but genuine smile before she disappeared out of sight. Kili’s shoulders slumped as he heaved a huge sigh, and knocked his head light back into the wall behind him. “I wish I could show you,” he mocked himself, closing his eyes in quiet despair. “Yes, like she will just run away with a dwarf prisoner that she has barely had a conversation with. Mahal help me, I’m an idiot.” 

* * *

Bilbo may lack battle prowess, but he made up for it with his exceeding cleverness, soundless feet and eye for detail. For the last few days, he spent not idle, but watching and following the guards. He took as many chances as he felt he could spare, and one day, nosing and wandering about, he finally found a promising escape. The dwarves wouldn’t like it. Not one bit, but it was the only way out that he had seen that wasn’t the gates. There was a stream flowed under part of the lowest regions of the palace, and joined the Forest River some way further to the east, beyond the steep slope out of which the main mouth opened. Where this underground watercourse came forth from the hillside there was a watergate. 

He found this deep down in the wine cellar, no too far from the dungeons at all, when great oaken trapdoors opened. These opened upward, and barrels upon barrels of wine were lifted upward into the cellars. Empty barrels were dropped downward into the current, back from whence they came, a strange system put into place. 

Hiding behind one of the largest barrels, Bilbo discovered the trapdoors and their use, lurking there, listening to the talk of the king’s servants, he learned of all the goods that came up the rivers, or over land, to the Long Lake. It seemed a town of Men still thrived there, built on bridges far into the water as protection against enemies of all sorts, and especially against the dragon of the Mountain. From Lake-town the barrels were brought up the Forest River. Often they were just tied together like a big raft, or poled, or rowed up the stream. Sometimes, they were loaded on to the flat boats. 

Bilbo might not be able to secure a raft, but the barrels may be useful. If he could get the dwarves out of the dungeons, those barrels could help get them down the river, and right where they needed to go, towards the mountain. Now he had to figure out how to go about that, and how to convince them. 

He also had to figure out how to get Elizabeth down here. Guards sat outside the door of her room, and patrolled the hallways there routinely, without falter. But he had to figure it out, and fast. 

* * *

Shackles bound his wrists, the chains held his arms at width as far as they could go, and his wrists elevated upward on level with the top of his head. The toes of his feet barely scraped the ground, and the way he hung made it purposefully harder for him to breath. Being bound for a length of time was taxing, even for a dwarf and after a day, he could felt the damage being done. He was given no food, or drink; another layer of torture on top of the chains, meant to slowly break him down. It was a light form of torture that would leave no marks, so the elves could pretend they still held the more high ground. More hours ticked by at a snail’s pace, until Thorin could feel numbness prickle at his fingers, and a lightness swirled inside of his mind, muddling his thoughts. 

Yet he did not break. He refused to. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, his eyes closed, and he counted to a hundred in his mind. First in common, then in his native tongue. He continued this pattern, for it gave him something to focus other than his growing despair. He could no longer hear his company, his cell far away from the others, deep into the heart of the darkest part of the forest. Another hour passed until each breath he drew was labored, and his thoughts bored on delirious as black dots edged along his vision. 

Brow furrowed, his eyes were shut tightly and his lips parted. He would endure as he had for years as he done through countless of hardships and trials. He had seen his world burn, simple and starvation paled in comparison to that. He was so focused on stringing together his own thoughts that he barely heard the commotion outside, and he did not hear the door being unlocked, but behind his eyelids he could see the change in light. He pulled his eyes open, and now he was certain he had fallen into delirium for there stood Elizabeth, a vision in white at his cell door, light surrounding her like a halo. 

Her eyes immediately found his, they widened and her lips parted in horror at the sight of him being strung up, and she rushed forward. “Thorin!” She cried out, and the sound of his name from her lips was the most beautiful sound he had heard in days, even when her voice was filled with such pain. Her hands reached up, warm and gentle, cupping his face. 

“Such a beautiful dream,” Thorin croaked out, his eyes struggled to focus on her features. “You belong in no such place as this.” 

Her eyes grew watery, and her chin wobbled, her shaky thumb brushed across his cheek before she pulled away from him, taking her warmth away all too soon. “Get him down,” Elizabeth demanded, her voice cold and hard, nothing like it usually was. 

Thorin lifted his head, and narrowed his eyes at the elven prince who stood there. His upper lip curled at the sight of the elf, and a small satisfaction welled in him when he saw that ever blank expression grew was a bit disquieted by the sight of him. 

“You wish for me to disobey my father’s orders?” Legolas asked, his voice confident, but the brief hesitation before he spoke said otherwise. 

“I expect you to have a heart,” her voice thunderous, and unwavering, as it echoed through the cell. “This is cruel, and you know it. Get him down.” 

A light indention appeared in the middle of the prince’s brow, and his blue eyes flickered towards the dwarf. There was a struggle that took place inside of him before he released a heavy sigh, and gestured for the guards, giving a short command in elvish. 

The guards reluctantly approached Thorin, their nose wrinkled in distaste, but they hurried unshackling him at the fierce glare that Elizabeth had them pinned under. As soon as the binds were undone, Thorin pitched forward, the elves letting him fall, and Elizabeth rushed to catch him the best she could. His body crashed into hers, sending the both to them both painfully to their knees. Her arms locked around him, steadying him, as the crown of his forehead was set against her chin. His nose pressed tight against the hammering pulse in her throat, and his hot breath spilled across her collarbone. Her body quaked underneath the dead weight of his, but she made no indication that she strained by the burden. 

Legolas reprimanded the guards, but they did not appear all that apologetic. With a heavy sigh, he dismissed them with a wave of his hand and turned to look at Elizabeth. “My father has granted you your time,” Legolas told her, seriously. “Use it wisely, Elizabeth.” 

Elizabeth watched until the elven prince left, and only relaxed when the cell door closed, giving them much needed privacy. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Thorin breathed out, roughly. 

Elizabeth closed her eyes, to keep the angry tears at bay. Her heart ached inside her chest, and she swallowed the ball of emotion that burned in the back of her throat. “There is no other place that I’m needed more,” whispered Elizabeth, her voice thick. Her hand trembled against his chest where it was caught between them, and her other hand curled around his neck, her fingertips brushing across his skin. “Oh, Thorin, what have they done to you? Tell me that being chained up was all that happened. When Thranduil said he was trying to persuade you to tell him your purpose for being in the forest, I feared the worst.” 

“I am well,” he assured her, with a haggard breath as he moved to get his knees better beneath him. The skin tingled as blood pumped through his limbs, waking up from where they had grown lax by hanging there uselessly. He should recover use of them, quickly, for a dwarf was hardier than an elf or man, built to endure hardships. For now he rested against her, drawing strength from her presence for it reassured him in ways that words simply could not. He inhaled deeply, the scent of her caressed his nose, the smell of lavender and milk and honey from a recent bath, but beneath that was aroma that was light, feminine, and wholly her own that stirred him. “A day or two in irons shall not break me. I will not give that leaf eater nor his sheep the satisfaction.” 

A watery laugh escaped her. “Stubborn as always,” she said, her tone a bit sorrowful. She reached up, brushing a lock of his hair from his face, and her thumb smoothed across his temple. 

“What price did you have to pay the piper to come and see me?” Thorin asked, recalling the price’s words. He was concerned with what hefty price the King had asked of her for he knew Thranduil did nothing by halves. 

“A song,” Elizabeth answered, “was all that was required of me.” 

“A song? You must have sung well to bend Thranduil’s ear to your will,” Thorin commented, the barest trace of relief in his voice. A song was a mere copper to what the Elven King could have requested, but at the same time, Thorin did not like that she had to give him that much. Her voice should be hers to give away freely, not used as leverage, yet he could not regret that she used it to see him. Knowing that, at least, one of his was safe brought him a bit of solace that was sorely needed. 

“I don’t know about that, and for a moment, I thought he’d have me through back into my room instead of honoring his bargain,” Elizabeth said, quietly. “I fear I upset his majesty with my choice of song.” 

Thorin lifted a tired brow. “Oh?” 

“I sang the Song of Durin in elvish,” Elizabeth admitted, with a small smile. “Thranduil looked like he sucked on a lemon through the entirety of it.” 

A flash of surprise moved through his blue eyes, and then a sharp laugh escaped him, though it quickly turned into a haggard cough. His lungs still needed time to become used to the air that they had been deprived of, and he felt Elizabeth shift towards him, concern in her eyes. “Such cheek,” Thorin said, upon his next breath. A glint of admiration and pride appeared in his eyes with a hint of mischief that was reminiscent of Fili and Kili. “I wish I could have seen the haughty elf’s porcelain mask crack, but your retelling with have to suffice.” 

“Just one retelling?” Elizabeth said, a bit of relief in her tone. It was good to see him smile, albeit layered with exhaustion, but a smile nonetheless. 

“Many retellings,” Thorin corrected, he tilted his head back so he peer into her face. His ridged brow furrowed, his lips dipped downward at the edges, and his blue eyes searched hers. “How fares our friends?” 

Elizabeth knew he spoke of Bilbo. “They fare well from what little I seen when I was brought down here, but I fear I was not able to have a word with a single one of them,” she replied, in one moment letting him know his company was alright, and that Bilbo had not been caught, and still working to help them escape. 

“Then all hope is not lost,” Thorin nodded, wearily. 

“Hope is never lost,” Elizabeth told him, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath her palm. Sweat curled his chest hair, and the coarse hair tickled her skin, and a zing of aware shot through her at how intimately close they were pressed together, and Thorin’s lack of tunic. She swallowed, her throat jolted with the effort as she tried to push such thoughts away. “Just misplaced, but in the end, always found.” 

“Did the wizard tell you that?” Thorin said, with a hint of smirk. 

“Possibly,” Elizabeth said. “But they are wise words, nonetheless.” 

“Aye, Gandalf can be wise when he does not speak so evasively, and in riddled,” Thorin acknowledged, with a light huff. His words caused her face to split into a smile, and garnered him a small sweet laugh. The lines on his eyes—ones created by knowing despair, and devastating loss—crinkled when his eyes narrowed. “You’re eyes… they are different,” he noted, with a mystified tone. “How can that be?” 

If it had been anything, but her eyes, Elizabeth would have been flattered that he took notice. Instead, a knot of dread welled up inside her stomach, and she had to look away from him. She knew that all the dwarves held curiosity for the strange appearance of her eyes, but she had never given a straight forward answer. No, she danced around the subject in fear of being pitied for the aliment that no magic had been able to cure. She did not wish to be reminded that the path she was set on felt like it inevitably let to doom, with only a slight glimmer of hope at the end of it all. “Do you remember when I told you that one day I might share why I chose to come to aid you on this quest? Besides, helping reclaim your homeland, that is,” she said, her voice very quiet. 

“You said that one day I might be lucky enough to hear them,” Thorin recalled, his fingertip ran along the hollow of her neck before he reached up to capture her chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Does luck favor me this day?” 

Elizabeth looked back at him, a bittersweet smile on her face. “A certain kind of luck,” she said, a shadow flickered in her eyes. “I am not sure of where to start with it, or how to explain for I lack many answers myself. You remember I told you about how I got lost in the woods as a child?” 

“Yes.” 

“There was more to it than…just what I told you. That morning I left my parents’ home, I remember hearing—feeling this song beat in the rhythm of the earth—and I followed it to this cave,” Elizabeth said, her heart thumped inside of her chest. She felt a quiver of unease settle over, and prayed that Thorin did not look at her differently. She wasn’t sure she could handle that. “I wasn’t supposed to go that far into the woods. My father told me not to go that far, but I let my curiosity get the better of me, you see. And I…I went into the cave, and I found something there. 

“It was a stone of some kind. It shined and shimmered,” Elizabeth recalled how mesmerized she had been at the sight of it. “It was unlike anything I had seen, and I realized that the song was coming from the stone. I couldn’t help myself, I just reach into grab it not thinking of consequences. It happened so fast, the stone sunk into my skin with all the heat of a wildfire, and the cave seemed to erupt into flames that took the form of a great serpent,” Elizabeth said, her voice tight. She could remember the smell of smoke, and the terror that had choked her. “I remember hearing screams, people praying for someone to save them, and phantom people running past me. Then the fire snake turned towards me, eyes red and evil, and I ran. I ran so fast, but no matter how fast I ran, the fire continued to burn within me until my world faded to nothing.” 

Thorin did not have to imagine her plight. He knew the fear of flames, of smoke as it burnt deep into the lungs, and screams so loud they still echoed within his nightmares. “You must have been terrified,” Thorin commented, feeling the quake of tension that ran through her. He had heard of such dangerous magics that toy with mind, illusions that could terrorize a person. It was grievous that as a child that she had to endure such horrors. An ache ran through his chest as he imagined a bright and dewy-eyed child rush through the forest, in search of adventure only to find herself in a nightmare. It was a moment that defined her, and still shook her to her core. 

“I was,” Elizabeth nodded. She wouldn’t pretend to be brave for even the memory of it unnerved her down to her bones. “When I woke up, my entire world was different,” Elizabeth admitted, her voice faint and her eyes closed, tightly. “But I had no time to dwell on it. It wasn’t until after I was found by Lord Elrond that I discovered that…that I had been marked that day. I had become cursed.” 

Some dwarves were superstitious, while the other half vehemently denied such things. “Cursed?” Thorin whispered, his eyes widened ever so slightly. Cursed, was a term he was familiar with more than he cared to be. The Line of Durin was said to be such, though no dwarf lord dared to say such to his face, but he heard the whispers behind his and his kins’ backs. 

“Whatever I encountered in that cave unleashed a curse,” Elizabeth whispered out, thickly. “Two forces battle within me. One, a darker force that threatens to consume me. The second, a light that fights to preserve me.” 

“And the wizard has no answers for you?” Thorin asked, frowning. Surely, Gandalf would have exhausted all alternative. The wizard seemed to have an almost uncle or grandfatherly relationship with Elizabeth. 

“None. At least, none that are straightforward,” Elizabeth whispered. “Only that if I aid in your quest that I may find the way to end my curse.” 

Thorin’s lips parted in a mute surprise. 

Elizabeth let out a small sigh. “I am sorry my reasons are not nearly altruistic as others,” whispered she, regretfully. 

Thorin gave a sharp shake of his head. “Your reasons do not change how I regard you, if that is what you fear. You have shown me and my Company great loyalty, and compassion. You have helped defend us at the risk of you own life, and your heart is steadfast and true,” Thorin stated, the palm of his hand smoothed out against her jaw. A suspicion gnawed at his gut, leaving a cold sweat on the nape of his neck. “But I am confused as to why a quest to reclaim Erebor would cure you of this…curse that plagues you? Unless there is more to it than what you say?” 

Elizabeth hesitated to tell him of her nightmares, of a city burning, and lives stolen by the fury of flames. “Nightmares steal away into my mind while I sleep,” she said, her voice shook ever so slightly. Her fingers curled around the collar of his damp tunic, clutching it as if it was an anchor. “Horrible dreams about fire, and death, and sometimes, I am observer. I can’t do anything to stop. I can only stand by and watch. Other times, I’m a person caught in the middle. One time I was a father desperate to get his children out of the burning house, but the crumbling tower block the away. In another I was a dwarven child, searching for my mother, but the smoke made him sleepy, so he found a corner away from the chaos and huddled there. He closed his eyes, and never woke up.” 

“You think they are of Erebor,” Thorin said, his voice almost soundless. Uneasiness flowed in his blood like ice, and his grip on her tightened ever slightly, struggling to remember his own strength. “You believe you dream of the mountain.” 

“I think Gandalf believes so,” Elizabeth replied, with only a moment’s pause. “It would explain a great deal, and yet still leaves me with more questions than answers.” 

Thorin made a low thoughtful noise, his blue eyes traced the curve of her jaw and his hand followed it almost lazily. “First your path crosses that of my father’s, and now through this quest, mine,” he murmured, with a curious indention upon his brow. “Fate has seen fit to twine our paths more tightly than I originally thought.” 

“It seems so,” Elizabeth breathed out. The flutter in her stomach that she had come to attribute to Thorin had swirled into something headier, and more volatile. Something built in the air between—had been building for a long time now—and was drawn tightly, and she found herself leaned towards him. “But to what end does fate bind us?” 

“To the only end,” Thorin whispered, his hand slid up the back of her neck and cupped the base of her skull, his blue eyes burned into her face with an intensity that left a blush upon her skin. “You never answered me.” 

“Answered what?” Elizabeth asked, her voice light for she did not want to break this spell that he seemed to have cast over her. It heated her blood, and a pleasant tingle spread across her skin, an awareness she had never felt before only heard of in whispers or books. Her heart thumped in her chest, half not daring to believe what swelled within her, and yet a part of her felt like this is what her heart was pulling her all along. 

“You said that the dwarves see me as their king, regardless of my lack of kingdom and crown,” Thorin refreshed her memory. “I asked if you if that is what you saw me, but you were never given chance to reply. What is it you see when you look upon me, Elizabeth?” 

It felt like the weight of the world hinged on her answer, and she should think long and hard about, but she didn’t have to. The answer immediately fell from her lips, the truth in her heart released only a second after his question was asked. “You,” she whispered, with a soulful gaze. “I see you.” 

The tension cracked between them like a whip, and suddenly Thorin pulled her towards him, without warning or preamble, into a punishing kiss. The air pulled from her lungs into a surprised sigh in which he swallowed, moving his mouth against hers. Thorin kissed like he fought in battle, passionately and giving no quarter. He drunk from her like a dying man in the desert and she was an oasis, and Elizabeth felt herself melt against him, her entire control surrendered. His tongue brushed across her lower lip, retreating for only a moment before he pressed it at the seam of her lips more insistently. A low moan dragged up through Elizabeth throat, and she opened her mouth to his assault. 

He sampled her with the finesse that one might reserve for wine tasting, his tongue leaving no inch of her unclaimed and the cell around him simply vanished from his mind entirely. It had been years since he had sought relief of flesh, but this was much more than those brief encounters. This kiss managed to heat his blood, and consume him in a way he had never encountered before. It was like liquid fire flowed through him, searing his skin with awareness—the same awareness he fought in the clearing as she had helped Oin with his wounds. He knew she was worldly, that she had seen and learned things, but he did not believe she had lovers, there was an innocence—despite all that she had been through—to her that claimed otherwise. He had not wanted his desire to show, and frightened her, but he could not fight such things now, when he was lost in the throes of the kiss. 

Elizabeth herself had lost all sense of thought of where they were, her nerves alit with a fire she had never felt before. It soaked into her blood, a slow burn, making her body ache and tremble in the strangest ways. Nothing she had read or heard of had prepared her for this assault on her senses, and a blush stole across her skin, all the way from her head down to her bosom. Her toes curled in her shoes as a simmering heart built in her stomach, growing hotter with each pass of his lips upon hers. And the feel of his beard scraping against her chin, and lips made her throb at the apex of her thighs, stealing another sweet groan from her. 

There was no other end for them than this. It felt inevitable, ever since Thorin stepped through the doors of Bag End, and found her there, unexpected. Her spirit intrigued him, her stubborn nature maddened him, and her heart taunted him to claim it. She was his One, he had known it, but oh, how he had fought. Denounced the tremble that had stirred in the first moment their eyes met as nothing and her as merely an unwanted distraction. She proved him wrong, and each act of courage and compassion, chipped away at his prized control and the walls he had erected around himself. Thorin breathed hard when he pulled his lips from her, and a soundless whimper trembled on her mouth. “By Mahal, you are beautiful,” he told her, his tone held reverence. He had thought many times before, but it was the first time he said it out loud, and was pleased to see her flush darker from his words. Fixing a strand of her hair, Thorin fought for control and his eyes met hers. “I have little I can offer you,” Thorin told her, earnestly. “I am a King in Exile, and while in the Blue Mountains I have built a good life, it is not as it should be. I can’t offer you more than that for I know not what waits for us at the Lonely Mountain, nor can I promise that I will survive it.” 

Elizabeth managed to find her voice, after a long moment. “I, too, have little to offer you,” she replied, dazed and her lips tingled pleasantly from where his bread had scraped against them. Her chest heaved with deep, shaken breaths, and she clung to him tightly for if she did not, she felt like she would fall. “I come not from royal blood. I have no title, save for the honorary one of Thane Rivendell, and I have no gold or wealth. I can’t even promise you that I will live to see another year, let alone a life time as long as I am still cursed. All I have is my heart,” she whispered, the weight of her emotions knotted in the back of her throat. How cruel fate was that her heart would be taken now in such a way when a dragon’s rage, and her curse seemed to spell doom before her. Yet she felt no ounce of regret for how her feelings for Thorin had blossomed, and made her feel more alive than she ever had before. “And what I feel for you. I have tried to deny it, to hide from it, but it plagues me every hour of the day. Now that you have seen, I can’t hide from it anymore nor can I take it back.” 

Thorin pressed a gentler kiss upon her lips, holding her tightly to as if nothing could take from his arms. “I never imagined finding you on this quest,” he told her, pressing a worshipful kiss to the center of her palm. The emotion she had pulled forth that he long ago buried would not sit idle, and been shoved away. He could no more deny them than he could deny who he was. “At first, I cursed Mahal for putting you in my path now of all times, and I denied what you stirred inside of my heart for it seemed easier to bear, but now I realize I have been foolish to hold such distance. Days, years, any time that is ours to spare, I would have you spend it knowing that you are important to me, no matter where this journey leads us.” 

The last bit of wall that surrounded her heart fell, leaving her heart bare for him to see, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. “We will get out of this, Thorin, I swear it,” she pledged, her eyes closed tightly. “Our quest will not end here in Thranduil’s dungeons. It will end on a mountain with a dragon dead, and your home reclaimed.” 

“And you cured of your curse,” Thorin promised in kind. “Whatever answers the grey wizard believes are in that mountain we will not stop until we have exhausted ourselves to find them. You’ve given me loyalty, a willing heart, and more. I can do not less for you.” 

Elizabeth wanted to believe such was possible, and she buried her face into the crook of his neck, holding on tightly as if she could hold on forever. She allowed herself to sink into the ocean of emotions; she had been desperately staying afloat of, and not to drown in them. It was pain, but it was sweet kind of pain. The cell door creaked open, much too soon, and though she did not hear footstep, for the feet of elves were soundless, she knew Legolas stood there, waiting. 

“It looks like this moment isn’t ours to keep,” Elizabeth sighed, her voice trembled despite how she tried to quell it. She clenched her eyes closed, trying not to let despair overwhelm her. Did she not tell Thorin that hope was eternal, and just had to be found? She had to hold onto that notion, and hope that Biblo was successful where she had failed. 

“We shall have others,” Thorin told her, though he wished he could say that full confidence. He could not for while Bilbo was quite clever, and had his complete trust, there was still so much that could wrong. The hobbit could be caught, or worse. 

“Aldanniel,” Legolas said, his tone insistent but not unkind. 

Elizabeth’s throat bobbed, her eyes filled with regret as she broke their embrace, pulling away from Thorin. Her hands grasped at his, holding on for a second longer, and he knew in his heart, if it had been her will she would have stayed down here with him. She shakily rose to her feet, and her fingers fell free from his, her heart in her throat. Legolas’s hand came to rest upon the crook of her elbow, and Thorin glowered up at the prince, and his back as he escorted Elizabeth from the cell. 

His eyes only flickered away for a brief moment to meet Elizabeth’s when she gave him one last look before she was pulled out of his sight, and the cell door shut with an ominous clang. For several moments, he sat there, silent and lost to his thoughts. It was selfish to sink into the feelings that had been growing between him and Elizabeth, and Thorin for most of his life had put himself above such selfishness. Yet the look in her eyes called to him like a siren, plagued him things he had never dared to hope for, and would he not regret it more if it had been left unsaid and the chance gone forever? Too many close calls had already almost claimed them both, but it was foolish to start this, especially with a dragon in their path. Thorin resolved with a hefty sigh that he would rather have that time then have none at all. It would be better to have a memory, than more regrets on top of those he already owned. Thorin’s hands clenched into loose fists, and he pulled himself to his knees when the lightest of noises drew his attention towards his cell door. At first, he thought it was the elven guards returning to chain him up once more, then relaxed when Bilbo’s voice cautiously called out, “Thorin?” 

“Bilbo,” Thorin’s head shot upward. “Are you safe? Have you been seen?” 

“Safe as houses,” Bilbo replied, tiredly. His voice came from thin air, and wobbled with exhaustion. “The elves have not spotted me, thus far, but I fear I will be found soon. The halls are busier, filled with elves celebrating, and I bumped into a couple. Thankfully, they could not hold their wine, and were none the wiser.” 

Thorin snorted, slightly. “And what of your endeavor in finding us a way out?” He asked, keeping his voice very light as he neared his cell door. He looked out at the passage, not expecting to see the burglar for he would not risk becoming visible now, but to keep an eye out for the guards. He did not doubt they would return, and he could already feel the weight of shackles on his wrists. 

There was a hesitation before the hobbit spoke. “I believe I may have found a way out, but it will not be a way that you like,” Bilbo said, with a healthy dose of caution. 

“As long as it frees from this place, Master Baggins, I care not what means you use,” Thorin said, relief blossoming in his chest. He had been close to following into despair, and if it had not been for Elizabeth coming to see him, and Bilbo’s revelation, then a part of him had contemplating caving into Thranduil’s demands even though he never admit such out loud. Now he felt a renewed sense of purpose, and the depression that threatened to seize him vanished. It was as Elizabeth had said, hope was never lost, and now, he felt that it truly had been found. 

“Well, I hope that you remember that,” Bilbo said, humorlessly. 

“How soon will you be able to enact this plan of yours?” Thorin questioned, knowing that his impatience bled through into his voice. He knew that the hobbit would not hold it against him, for he was certain Bilbo wished to leave this dreary place as well. 

“Soon,” Bilbo replied, nodding his head even though Thorin could not see him. “I need to locate the keys to get you out of your cells, and to get past the elves that guard that area, but…I think I have a way to do just that.” 

“I have every faith in you, shield-brother,” Thorin told him. 

Bilbo’s ears burned at the praise. “I shall endeavor to make sure that your faith in me is not misplaced,” the hobbit promised, and his ear twitched ever so slightly, catching a noise. “I think the guards are approaching. I will return as soon as possible, and hopefully, we will be able to make our escape.” 

Thorin nodded, and backed away from the bars. He did not hear the hobbit’s silent foot falls as he hurried away, but he was aware when the elves arrived. Biting back his anger as the cell door open, Thorin did not fight when he was shackled once more, for in retaliation they might harm his Company. They did not have him strung up like a ham in a butcher shop this time, and he had a suspicion that the elven prince might be behind that, though he would give no thanks to Thranduil’s son. Instead, he lowered himself onto the cot, the echoes of chains rattling in his ears and allowed his mind to find him an escape from the dark cell. A vision formed of solid stone beneath his feet, of mountain air deep in his lungs, and a small soft hand placed inside of his. 

* * *

While the Company were trapped in the Woodland realm, the darker forces did not sleep or rest. They stirred like dark clouds on a thunderous and stormy day, and the very earth trembled from the wickedness that was brewing. Bolg, son of Azog and some unfortunate soul, stomped through the orc camp, cursing and scuffling. Their tortured prisoner had managed to escape, but they had gotten what they had wanted. The name ‘Baggins’ had been sent to their human servants—children of Man with blackened hearts and wicked souls as dark as orc’s—whom had tracked it back to a place called the Shire. An animalistic growl reverberated through his throat, pale lips pulled back into a snarl as lesser orcs fled from his foul mood. His good eyes flickered towards Azog who watched the group gather together, and he hissed, “Nazgûl, Nazgûl,” said Bolg, shivering and licking his lips as if the word has a foul taste that he savored painfully. “Why do we need them? You said the halfling with the dwarves was a plump, soft and feeble little creature.” Bolg was careful not to mention the hobbit’s thwarting his father for it still sent Azog into a rage, and many were killed in the wake of Azog’s wrath. That did not stop Bolg from thinking it inside of his head, and staring resentfully at Azog. “If others of his kind are like him, they will be easy prey for the slaughter. We do not need them to kill the miserable wretches, and raze their lands to the ground.” 

Azog eyes widened in anger, and he reached out, swiftly to haul Bolg by the neck towards him. “You speak of what is deep beyond the reach of your muddy dreams, Bolg,” he said, with derision and disgust directed at his pitiful offspring. “The Nazgûl are the apple of the Great Eye, and those that speak ill of them find their heads on a pike.” 

Bolg reluctantly looked away, and grit his teeth together. “But why are they called here now?” He demanded, only to grunt when Azog’s fingers dug into his throat. He hated the other orc, but was too weak to overthrow him. There was no love lost between them—for orcs were not capable of such emotions as love, kindness, or compassion, bred only to know hatred and anger and resentment. 

“Because the dwarf-scum have slipped through our fingers, so our Master does not believe that we can accomplish this task alone.” It was clear there was a jealous rage within Azog when it came to the Nazgûl, but he kept his anger in check. To make an enemy of the Nine was a death wish. His dark, blistering anger would be better served by severing Thoirn Oakenshield’s head from his body. “So we send them to the hobbit lands in search of the Ring, and allow them their destruction while we killed the last of the Durin line, and claim the ring from their little halfling to present to our Master ourselves. Understood?” 

Bolg nodded, and Azog released his offspring, with a snort. “If the ring is on the hobbit that is with the dwarf-scum, why bother sending the Nazgûl to the hobbit lands?” Bolg questioned, eyes narrowed. 

Azog gave a smile that pure evil and wickedness shined in his malevolent yellow eyes. “Because we can,” was his reply, and he gave a harsh laugh before he shoved his son away. There was no motive in his actions other than to gain prestige over the Nine by returning them ring to his Master, and if they slaughtered ever last Halfling, it was no concern of his. 

Bolg’s sharp teeth were revealed as his lips pulled back into a smile, amused by the images of slaughter that rose in his mind, and he had half a mind to join the Nazgûl if he had been ordered to track the dwarves into the forest. While the infection that spread through the forest poisoned most travelers, the orcs would transverse it with ease for after all it was their Master that planted the seeds of sickness long ago. “Will the winged Nazgûl be sent? I imagine they will feast quite well swooping down and devouring little hobbits.” 

“The winged Nazgûl: not yet, not yet. He won’t let them show themselves across the Great River yet, not too soon. They’re for the War—and other purposes,” Azog growled, his face twisted and he became more ugly if such was possible. “For now, the Nine will hunt the hobbits of the Shire, and we will hunt Thorin Oakenshield. Do not fail me, Bolg, in bringing the dwarf leader to me. I wish to carve my name in the heads of his heirs, and make him watch as I take pleasure in breaking the woman.” 

Bolg was tempted to claim the glory of killing Thorin Oakenshield himself, but it was foolish to do such a thing. Orcs often fought each other, but it was rare to challenge the leader of the pack. Bolg did not have another power to do that, but others hated Azog as much as he did. Once Azog slipped and show an ounce of weakness, Bolg would murder his father without a second thought and then he would rise in his Master’s ranks, becoming the most fears orc of all. The Defiler would be nothing compared to the carnage that he would deliver onto the world. 

* * *

The forest had weakened Elizabeth. Bit by bit it wore at her strength, and even though the darkness was not here within the kingdom, the strength she had lost had not been regained. She spent too much time, filled with worry and on guard, to properly heal, and the little food she ate weighed heavily in her stomach. And sleep was a nonentity at this point, but her body needed it. She should have expected it. It had been too long since her last nightmare, and she had counted herself lucky. She should have known as she lay curled up in the armchair, staring into the fireplace, watching the flames that a nightmare was coming. Sweat beaded on her brow, tightness along her spine, but her eyes drifted close against her will. 

She had fallen asleep, and the nightmare grasped her with unforgiving claws. It was the worst nightmare she had ever had in her entire life, and this time, she was neither a bystander nor a victim to the flames. This time she felt like the fire saw her, acknowledged her, and purposely attacked her with no qualms about it. Molten lava flowed beneath her skin, burning and charring her flesh, and the stench of it coated the inside of her nose. She couldn’t move for large nails had been hammered into her hands, pinning her to the hard ground, and her back arched as agony slashed through her from head to toe. She couldn’t scream, her voice stolen from her the second she fell asleep, and her soul swelled in her chest, visible for all to see. For all the flames to attack, and her mouth stretched open wide as she flayed in agony. It felt as if something was attempting to tear her soul right out of her body, and then burn it out of existence. A dark, oily presence slinked around her like a circling wolf, but every time she turned to look, it was moved too fast and darted out of the corner of her eye. 

The nightmares became worse, and worse. There was so much pain that she could feel her sanity slip through her fingers, and when she thought that she couldn’t get any worse, it managed to do so with exceeding precision, hitting her where the chinks in her armor was. A large hand grasped her throat, choking her and twisted her head to look to the right. There was throne room of Erebor—she just knew instinctively that it was the Lonely Mountain—and there on the throne was the broken bloody figure of Thorin, mutilated almost beyond all recognition with every single of the Company lying dead at his feet, even Biblo. Her heart screamed in denial, and heartbreak, tears streaking down her face. 

She could feel her soul begin to crumble, and fall apart, and a malevolent laughter rang in her ears, and she knew—she just knew—she was losing the battle the against her curse. She could feel the end coming, rushing towards her like a tidal wave, when a bright light cut through the darkness. She gasped, her eyes pulled up and she was wide awake. A gasp tore through her throat, a blistering pain, and her entire body shook like a leaf in the fall wind. The taste of blood coated her tongue, and she managed to look down at her arms, horror lanced through her. Angry red skin, cracked and bleeding, ran all along her arms, and the fabric that covered it was nothing more than ash. On her palms, where the nails had been in her dreams, was a nasty black bruise with pus leaking out of it. She flayed trying to move, but only succeeded in falling onto the ground, as helpless as a new born babe. 

A haggard cough rattled through, and blood splattered onto the white floor. Elizabeth tried to push herself up on her arms, but the muscles trembled, before all strength failed her. She hit the floor with a thud, and her cheek pressed against the cool stone, her pulse thundering in her ears. She laid there for countless minutes, and her lips formed words that were never heard. She laid there, trying to find some way to renew her willpower, and force herself to her feet when the doors opened up, and Legolas stepped through. Her heart slammed into her throat, and with a wobbly hand, she reached forward as if to crawl towards the Mirkwood prince. 

At first, Legolas did not see her. His line of sight up above the floor below, but when her leg hit the chair she had fallen from, his blue eyes jumped down to meet hers. His mouth parted in shock, and for second he was motionless as a carved statue. In the next moment, he rushed over and lifting her with ease into his arms. “Aldanniel, what happened?” Her friend asked, his cold, polite mask melted with concern. He turned towards the doors, and rushed with her in his arms, passed the guards heeding no shouts after them. 

Elizabeth could not answer right away. Her throat raw and her voice strangled. “C-curse…” she managed to say, blood trickled down the corner of her mouth. Her heart fluttered weakly inside of her chest, and her head bobbed, weakly. Her eyes felt heavy, but she would not fall unconscious. If she fell unconscious now, she knew that she would not wake again. She knew that the curse would consume her, and fear kept her clinging to the waking world. 

Elves were swift, and it seemed almost a blink of an eye, by the time they reached the Healing Halls. Legolas unceremoniously kicked the doors open, and barked at the healers in his elvish tongue, before settling her gently down on a bed. The next moments passed like a blur, with healers fussing above her, and cutting away at her dress—the poor seamstress that had made would probably faint if she knew—to reveal the extent of her wounds. Pained whimpers passed through her lips, there was nothing she could do about them, as she laid her head back against the pillow and her eyes riveted on a spot at the ceiling, trying to focus on it and nothing else. Her chest rose and fell in violently, and her teeth were gnashed so tightly together that she could not feel her jaw any longer. Hushed, gentle words flowed over her, but they offered her little comfort. A salve that smelt of king’s foil, and blue mushroom, was spread across her burns. It soothed the wounded flesh, but did nothing for the wounds on her soul. 

Her soul felt violated. There was no other way to describe it, and while it would heal in time, scars would remain. The cracks ran too deep to heal without a trace, and her thoughts raced, jumbled and disordered. Every ounce of her being had been thrown into chaos, and she no longer knew what peace of mind was, or if she would ever see it again. Hot tears overflowed in her eyes, and ran out of the corners, down just below her temples. Legolas held her hand tightly, a comforting anchor, but he had to let go to make room for the healers. Time passed too slow, and too quickly, all in the same moment. Wounds coated in medicine, bandaged tight, and Elizabeth was left to rest, with despair in her heart and fear in her thoughts. 

Legolas said no words. Instead, his fair complex was ashen and his bright eyes darken with troubled thoughts. He stood by her bedside, and it reminded her of the last time she had been to the woods, when she had fallen from a tree climbed out of mischief. He had been so upset that she had been hurt by joining him in his pranks, but it was what sealed their friendship. The Healing Halls were quiet as sunlight poured in from the windows—for the darkness had not taken it from here—save for the quiet groan of the occasional elf looking for a cure for a headache; many had indulged in too much wine last night, and even though they were miserable now, it would not stop them from partaking later as well. 

The doors opened, and in walked the King of the Woods himself, which sent made many healers flustered for his majesty very rarely visited here. Thranduil’s powerful gaze flickered over his son, and only someone who knew the King for a thousand years would have seen the slight dip at the corner of his lips. “I see what the guards spoke of was true,” the King stated, his tone light, but severe still. “Quite a commotion was made, but I see it was not without reason.” 

“No, not without reason, Ada,” Legolas replied, his throat bobbed slightly. “It is her curse.” 

“Indeed. It seems that darkness has grown in many hearts as of late,” Thranduil intoned, with a musing tone. He approached with measured steps, and looked at the quiet figure that did not seem to pay him heed, at all. “Leave us, Legolas. I have need to speak with Elizabeth, for our conversation while delayed at dinner because of the spectacle she made was not over.” 

“Father,” Legolas gave him a look. “Surely this can wait. She is hardly in any condition to talk.” 

“Meaning she is in a better one to listen,” Thranduil said, without care. 

Great reluctance passed over the elven prince’s face, and he looked prepared to protest for his father was being unreasonable. However, his words were kept quiet when Elizabeth reached out, touching the back of his hand with quaking fingers. “Go…” She rasped out, giving him the best smile she could. “I am...not afraid of your father.” 

She managed to turn her eyes upon the King to give him a glower that was impressive for her sickly state, and the tension in Legolas’s shoulder eased ever so. The platinum haired prince gave a shallow nod of his head, while keeping a stony glare upon his father. “Very well,” Legolas said, his tone stiff. “But I shall return to check on you.” 

Elizabeth nodded, faintly. 

Legolas strode out of the room silently, and Thranduil waited until the door was shut before he turned towards Elizabeth. Most of the healers had scurried off, out of hearing range and out of sight of the king for they did not want to be caught under one of his bad moods, leaving them with a bit of privacy. “My own son heeds you where he does not me,” Thranduil commented, a hint of displeasure in his tone. “That I should have to wonder at his loyalties lie, especially when you are around to feed his rebellious nature.” 

Elizabeth would have snorted, if it wouldn’t have hurt. Legolas idolized his father, and would move mountains to please him, even if he did do the occasional rebellious thing. “Legolas…has good heart…” She took in a deep even breath, and clenched her eyes shut. “He has compassion, and…what you see as rebellious…is him finding his own way.” 

“Perhaps,” Thranduil acknowledged, loftily. His tilted his head, strands of hair as gold as starlight shifted gently with the subtle movement. “You say he has a good heart and compassion as if these are traits you value in another, but what of your own heart? What of your own compassion? Can you claim to have such when you put all of Middle-Earth in jeopardy by taking on a quest of a madman? Thirteen dwarves, and a woman against a dragon? It is folly.” 

Elizabeth had no patience to spare, even for a King, and gave Thranduil a side-eyed look that said as much. It did nothing to deter the cold-hearted Elven King, if anything it seemed to only entice him to anger her more. “There is a prophecy about the quest the dwarves have embarked on. A prophecy that still is whispered by the people of Lake-Town to this day in equal measure of hopefulness and great fear,” Thranduil commented, his tone almost idle. “Such a lengthy poem, so I shall spare us time, and tell you the end of it. The streams shall run in gladness…the lakes shall shine and burn, and sorrow fail and sadness at the Mountain-king's return." 

Elizabeth felt her stomach clench, as she absorbed the words, and her brows pinched. Her pulse fluttered at the base of her neck for it did not take a genius to realize that the poem meant that the town upon the lake would be consumed by flames, and images of her nightmares passed through her mind, making her flinch. 

Thranduil smiled, coldly. “Can you tell me, Aldanniel, is sentencing a town to death by flames—a fate you are intimately familiar with—something you can do? Is your love for Thorin Oakenshield so great that you would take leave of your better nature?” The King asked, with an eyebrow arched upward. 

Elizabeth swallowed, thickly and turned her eyes from Thranduil, no longer able to hold his gaze. She could not deny his words, and felt them keenly like a blade straight to the heart. She, against all sense and reason, had fallen in love with Thorin, and she knew he, too, felt the same. Though the three words had not been exchanged, their declarations to each other down the in the dungeons had well as said them. She knew that there were still walls that guarded Thorin’s heart, for his wounds ran deep, and only time with compassion could ease them. She, too, bore wounds on her heart, and fears that could not be shaken, yet that had not stopped them for allowing such calloused walls to soften and allowed feelings to flourish between them. 

Yet her heart trembled at the thought of possibly condemning people to such a fate, for what entering the mountain would invoke the wrath of the dragon. Doubt crept in slow, and started to sink into her mind, when she suddenly recalled words Gandalf had spoken to her, a long time ago. It was when she was a child in Rivendell, and she sat at the Grey Wizard’s feet, watching him make all manners of things with pipe smoke. He had patted her head, and told her, _“You are stronger than you know, little one. Destiny has been written down since the dawn of time, and built the structure of order, but all order needs chaos. You are chaos, a wild card in the deck, and can change the flow of the narrative. Just do so wisely.”_

At the time, she had not understood. Wizard and their riddles were always so confounding, but now, a thought blossomed inside her mind, dispelling much of the doubt Thranduil’s word had instilled. “No…” She hissed, through clenched teeth. “You…are…wrong.” 

“Oh?” Thranduil seemed amused. 

“That prophecy was written in time…that I did not exist. In a time, where…I was not a thought, and was no destined for this quest,” Elizabeth spoke, though it was painfully to do so. “But I am here. I am here…now, and things have changed. You think…to make me afraid? Fear has…always been a part of me, but…I won’t let fear…stop me from doing what…I know is right. I will help…I will help the dwarves, and they will…have a home again. The lake…won’t burn, and the dragon will be dead before it…has a chance to leave the mountain,” she declared, using all her strength to sit up so she could look Thranduil straight in the eye. Her spine quaked with the effort, but she would not back down. 

“Such bold words, but will they be matched in deed?” Thranduil retorted, quietly. He seemed surprised by her, in that moment, and perhaps a little disquieted by her as well. His brows pulled so tightly together they almost to appear as one creature, and his blue eyes flared ever so slightly. “However you and the dwarves are still trapped here, and as long as that is so, neither prophecy—the one of old, and the hopeful one from your lips—shall come to pass.” 

Elizabeth said nothing. To taunt him would make him weary, and on alert which would not bode well for the company, so instead she bowed her head in a way that seemed defeated and clenched her jaw. Slowly, she lowered herself back onto the bed, and looked back at the ceiling without a single word. 

Thranduil hummed, knowing that the conversation had come to its end, and there were no more words that could be spoken between them. In one graceful movement, he turned away from her bed and headed towards to the door, his golden gown trailing around him before he paused at the threshold. “I know what it is to do things for people out of love, but in the end, it’s not enough, for you or for them,” Thranduil said, craning his head to peer over his shoulder at her. “You would be wise to remember these words.” 

And with that he swept out of the room, leaving Elizabeth in her misery. 

* * *

Thorin stared out at the wall across from him, but not seeing it at all. The hair on his neck stood on end when a shadow fell across his cell from the doorway, and he lifted his gaze to meet the eyes of the Guard Captain. “What do you want, _elf_?” Thorin spat, his eyes narrowed in a vicious glower through the bars of the cell at the red headed elf. His stomach seethed at the thought of being brought in front of Thranduil once more, and his upper lip curled at the thought. 

At first, the Captain of the Guard stared at him in silence. Her eyes measured him carefully while her expression gave away nothing. “Elizabeth believes we should help you,” Tauriel spoke, her voice quiet and toneless. 

Thorin twitched at the mention of Elizabeth, and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. He had not seen her since the previous day, when she had come to see him in his cell, and immediately the memory of the kiss filled his mind. It was tempered by how she had been forced to leave him, separating them once more, and he worked his jaw and turned his eyes away from the elf and looked at the walls of his prison without a single emotion on his face. 

Tauriel studied him, her head cocking to the side. “She believes in you, and I had not believed Elizabeth to be the one to put real faith into anything.” She was not completely sure of her motivations for coming down her. Perhaps it was that Elizabeth had the courage to voice the concerns that she had been having for several years now as the darkness crept further and further into her home. “I…” Tauriel paused for the briefest of moments, and then glanced around the prison half afraid that someone might overhear. “I do not believe that faith is entirely misplaced,” the elf admitted, cautiously. 

Thorin’s head jerked in her direction. His eyes wide in incredulity and he was half sure that he had misheard the elf’s words. Perhaps the time in the forest had taken more of a toll on him than he had originally thought. “Why are you here?” Thorin narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Is this some kind of…show of good will in order to sway me towards your King’s bargain?” 

“No. I am not here by the King’s will,” Tauriel stated, though she was certain he did not believe her. There was anxiety in her heart that grew since the forest became sick, and the arrival of the dwarves only made her worries increase. She should not be here. She should not concern herself with these dwarves, and let their burdens be their own. And yet she knew that she could not. “I am here by no will other than my own will.” She stepped forward towards the bars, her head bowed ever so slightly. “You intend to continue your quest even though there is the wrath of a dragon that you might incur, and the devastation that could follow. We have no way of knowing who or what will end up in the crossfire if the dragon is angered,” Tauriel clasped her hands behind her back, and straighten her spine as she met Thorin’s thunderous gaze. She had toiled over the dwarves imprisonment, and her own conscious, trying to deem what the right thing to do was. In the end, Tauriel knew what had to be done, but knew that if she chose this path…she would likely be exiled. “But I cannot condone my King’s actions against you. We who fight so hard to completely reclaim our homeland from all consuming darkness…what right do we have to keep you from reclaiming yours?” 

Thorin’s eyes narrowed with a speculative look at the elf. “Are you not an elf of Mirkwood?” Thorin asked, sardonically. 

“I am,” Tauriel replied. 

“Then you know _nothing_ of the grief that has plagued my people,” Thorin rumbled, his voice as fierce as thunder. “You know nothing of having to wander across the world, with no place that would hold us. Where elves turned their backs, and men turned up their noses. You have never had to watch as your people crumbled from exhaustion, and never get back up. Never had to watch daughters sell themselves in order to keep their families from starvation. Or sons go out in search of work, only to come back beaten and broken with all that they had stolen. Do not speak to me, elf, of the longing of home, and what suffering it brings.” 

Tauriel took his anger without batting an eyelash, and inclined her head ever so slightly. “I did not mean to imply that our suffering was equal, or that I have experienced such tragedies as your people have,” the red headed elf stated, calmly. “But I do understand the longing. Mirkwood was not always a place filled with darkness and despair. It was once called the Greenwood, a place filled with light and life, but that…that was a long time ago.” 

Thorin rolled his shoulders in order to ease the tension building there and eyed the elf with mistrust. “And why should I care of the darkness of Mirkwood?” Thorin asked, callously. 

“Even you must have felt it, dwarf,” Tauriel stated, firmly. Two more guards, whom had been friends of hers, had fallen. Missing for quite some time, a patrol found their bodies last night after pushing the spiders further off the King’s lands. It had cemented her decision to come to speak with Thorin Oakenshield. They needed help to reclaim their mountain, and while King Thranduil would not admit, the Woodland realm needed aid as well. “In the forest. This darkness means to take root here, and if it does it will not stop there. The malevolence that burns, that yearns to stretch outward across the lands and cover everything in darkness.” 

The red headed elf eyes flickered around the cavern and her traced the very roots of the trees that held this place strong. Her hazel eyes were troubled, and her expression grim. “I will not speak ill of my king,” Tauriel stated, quietly and with more than a little caution in her voice. “He is a good king. He cares for all of his people and puts them first, but has forgotten that Mirkwood is just a piece of a much larger world. He orders us to protect our lands, but the walls that protect us will be our undoing eventually. My King…he will not concede that a solution to this darkness may lay outside our borders.” 

Thorin stilled. He had indeed felt something unnatural in those woods. They all had. The dark, oil feeling that seemed to seep into his mind and he could still feel in the back of his head. His jaw clenched, tightly and he looked away. There were few things that could truly unnerve him, and that forest had been one of them. “Perhaps I have,” Thorin stated, his voice toneless. “But I fail to see what that has to do with my Company and I being trapped in your dungeon.” 

“You know what is behind the Wood’s affliction will not just stop with Mirkwood,” Tauriel commented, lightly. “After it swallows the Woodland Realm, like all darkness before it will set sight on the next light that stands in its path.” 

_The Mountain_. Thorin’s brows furrowed until his eyebrows looked almost look like one creature, and his eyes narrowed. The Kingdom of Erebor had stood against the forces of darkness many times before, but after the dragon, it’s light had been extinguished. If such darkness was creeping across the land, then without Erebor at its former strength, it would move on forward without halt. It would spread to the rest of the lands like blight, and as much as the dwarf wished to dismiss the elf’s claim, there was a terror that has its roots in this forest. 

“I believe that our people are more than our past slights, and battles,” Tauriel said, her voice lightly. “I hope that we are of the same mind, Thorin Oakenshield, and that you, like Elizabeth, believes this, too.” 

Thorin turned away from the elf, his silence a dismissal and one the red headed elf heeded as she slipped from sight. 

* * *


	29. The Great Escape Pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Afraima, tamerofdragons, LadyxLee, Lucson, Zabi_Chan, lilono, CrimsonLife, Andria, Bluefire14, Karcee, Sayomi_Night, 0102and03, LRazz, love112love, Direhart, alien94, Ayyyeee, GrammarGrrrl, Catann, moon_goddess_118, sweetsgal, Dusk_Lilly, earedien, kalin128, annievogel90, greasergirlalex, Starkid_Impala015, Just4Me, mehg11, EbonyLeijon, edelweissmaia, DanteOphydian, RegalMagnus, fairykia, Elashor_Seger, Dances_With_Vulcans, candy_hearts, i11iad, AgentLilyAEvans, hwinde and 78 guests that gave me kudos! You all are amazing!  
> I want to thank reflected_nightmare, Fey4life, LadyxLea, MooredMermaid, Zabi_Chan, ClarafromthewinOswald, lilono, Emrfangirl, Andria, Bluefire14, Lmd_dk, PhoenixFire0427, AloraKast, mdowney3, Catann, Avendia, Rosethebookwurm, aryannoakenshield, idrilcelebrindal, Dusk_Lilly, Starkid_Impala015, AgentLilyAEvans, candy_hearts, i11iad for the book marks! Thanks a bunch!

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 

“The Great Escape”

* * *

Night had long fallen over Mirkwood, and the young prince could not find rest. He paced the long length of the upper ramparts, and the guards did not approach him, leaving his highness to his thoughts. His keen eyes peered out through the surroundings trees, far greater than the eyes of men could see. The warm breeze stirred through his blond hair, toying with it almost whimsically, and yet he felt a frown form upon his brow. There was a stirring in the air that made a knot twist beneath his breast, and the feeling of something amiss increased tenfold. A feeling that bespoke of sinister happenings that would soon come to pass, and a danger that lurked just beyond the safety of the kingdom’s walls. 

Legolas closed his blue eyes, and turned away from the wind. His shoulder rose with a great breath as his scalp prickled, and he knew that Tauriel stood only a few feet away looking at him with blatant concern. He waited until she ordered the other guards to take leave before he opened his eyes and turned towards her. “What are you doing here, Tauriel?” He asked, his voice toneless. 

“Is it true? That Lady Aldanniel is in the healer’s wing?” Tauriel asked, with great concern. 

“Yes. I went to speak to her, and found in a sickly and weak condition,” Legolas sighed, a slight tremor in his voice. His expression pinched when he heard it, and he hastily cleared his throat. “It appears that her curse is getting worse. If it is not stopped…” He broke off, with a deep scowl on his face at the thought. He did not wish to think of such things, but there was no way to put them away. After seeing Elizabeth’s deteriorating condition, his thoughts weighed heavily upon him not allowing him a moment’s rest. His conscious was no less cumbersome in the matter. 

“If it is not stopped it will overtake her,” Tauriel finished, grimly. “It seems that time is a luxury that Elizabeth can no longer be spared. What will your father do? Will he send for Lady Galadriel or Mithrandir?” 

“I do not think he will,” Legolas replied, softly. 

“Surely he would not allow Elizabeth to suffer,” Tauriel admonished. 

“I fear my father is shortsighted in this matter. While I know he bears Elizabeth truly no ill will, he may prove to have a hand in her undoing if he cannot see eye to eye with the dwarves,” Legolas told her, with a frown upon his lips. His pulse jumped on his clenched jaw as he walked down the ramparts with Tauriel falling in step beside him. 

Tauriel momentarily floundered at the mention of the dwarves for it brought up thoughts of certain dark haired and dark eyed dwarf that she did not wish to think about. “What do the dwarves have to do with Elizabeth’s curse?” The red headed asked, with a bemused tilt of her head. 

“That is a question I have no answer to beyond the fact that Elizabeth believes that if she helps the dwarves’ reclaim their homeland, it may lead her to answer on how to break her curse,” said the prince, with his hands clasped behind him. His head was bowed forward ever so lightly, and his face cast in shadows. “At least, this is what the Grey Wizard has told her.” 

“Ah,” was Tauriel’s lackluster reply. Her face went blank for a moment as her mind swiftly processed that, and then her heart tugged painfully in her chest. If the dwarves were the best bet to help cure Elizabeth, then by keeping them prisoner they were doing their friend a great harm. “Surely we should bring this to your father’s attention. If he knows the price of holding the dwarves prisoner is Elizabeth’s life then—” 

“One life does not outweigh the lives of the many, Tauriel,” Legolas chastised her, gently. Inwardly, he understood where his friend was coming from. His first instinct had been to seek council with his father, and explain to him the severity of what was unfolding. Yet he did not think that he would have such sway over his father in these matters. Father and son they may be, but there was always a level of distance between them ever since his mother died many centuries ago when Legolas was naught, but a young elfling. “My father will not be swayed with such an argument.” 

Tauriel’s heart pounded in her chest. “Then perhaps it lies in our hands to change this fate.” 

Legolas froze, and shot her a look. “You cannot be suggesting what I think you are.” 

Tauriel looked at her longtime friend with a sorrowful, but determined gaze. “Some may think that following in the path of their forefathers is a great honor, but there is a difference between respecting the past and repeating it, Legolas,” Tauriel stated, seriously. Her brows were drawn together in thought, and her expression was troubled. “If we let ourselves be bound by the ways of the past we will never be able to make a future worth living for. I believe there is a choice presented to us in this moment to shape the future or shatter it completely.” 

Legolas craned his head to look at her. “You agree with her, don’t you? You agree with Elizabeth,” the elf prince said, a note of surprise in his voice. 

“Can you tell me that you do not? That is not a part of you that does not feel the same?” Tauriel asked him. 

Blood, sweat, tears and laughter over the centuries had sealed their friendship many times over. As elflings, they had at too young of age learned to pain of loss, and gravitated to one another and became swift friends. They had grown together, trained together, and fought together. They had gotten in much trouble with antics as children, and still on the occasion did so, though there was no time for such mischievous things as of late. They were family in all, but blood. He knew her better than all others, and it was startling to see her normal aloofness completely uprooted. And by dwarves, at that. “Such thoughts are foolish,” Legolas told her, but the sharpness had fallen from his voice. There was a solemn look in his eye that replaced the coldness, and a weariness that settled upon his shoulders. 

“To ignore what is happening would be even more so,” Tauriel shot back, her eyes narrowed slightly. “Your father is a good king, Legolas. I have followed him without question for centuries, but in this, his judgment is clouded as you are well aware. The dragon is a concern, and it has always been one. Even if the dwarves did not come on this quest, the dragon would not stay docile forever.” 

“Perhaps not,” Legolas gave a sharp incline of his head. “But the dwarves going in blind into a mountain to stir up a monster with likely a less than ideal plan of attack…it is a thought I shudder at.” 

“Then the dwarves would benefit from another pair of eyes,” Tauriel said, with a slightly impish look. She saw his lips twitch as he fought off a smile, and forged ahead with her reasoning. “They would also benefit from having well educated strategists.” 

Legolas peered at her through the curtain of his hair. “You’ve thought about this long and hard, haven’t you?” He asked, his tone barely more than a mere breath. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his arms folded over his chest. 

“It has plagued my mind, yes,” Tauriel didn’t bother to deny it. She looked around the ramparts to make sure they still have privacy, and no ears were listening. “I see no other way than to help them, Legolas. I know that doing so could very well…” She looked away from him, and the gardens below with a slight fearful expression on her face. “I know I could be exiled, or worse sentenced to death for treason. But my heart grows heavy day in and day out, as I go to those dungeons. The sight of them is heartbreaking, and it is a heartbreak that I fear that our people will one day come to know.” 

Legolas’s throat bobbed and his hands clenched into knuckle white fists. He said nothing, because he could not argue with her words. Her thoughts and fears mirrored were much like his own and as much as he wished he could make his father see reason, all his efforts were futile. He walked over to the edge of the ramparts, and braced his palms flat against the stone surface as he let out a deep breath. “The way to break Elizabeth’s curse lies in Erebor. Such folly and madness that fate should align like this,” Legolas spoke, his brows drawn together. His hands tightened on the railing as he battled with himself on what the right choice was to make. Either way, devastation would follow. “Even though her heart is strong, the darkness inside her is stronger. She’ll fight it with her last breath if it was to come to that, and it sickens my heart that I am hesitant to give her aid. But can I risk the welfare of the many, for her? For her group of dwarves? I wish the answer was more clear, but my mind and heart seem at odds.” 

“I understand your dilemma, _mellonin_ ,” Tauriel said, gently. “It is one that I face myself, even know when I seem ready to make a choice. The path is never going to be clear, Legolas. It will always be muddled with uncertainty, and filled with doubts. Yet can we risk not helping them? Can we not risk the attempt to save Elizabeth’s life? Can we not risk it to try and help the dwarves reclaim their homeland in the hopes that maybe in time they would come to repay the favor?” She laid a hand on his shoulder, and looked up at him with a saddened gaze. “If you cannot find compassion in your heart for the dwarves’ plight, then you must have it certainly for Elizabeth’s.” 

“Of course, I do,” Legolas gave her a sharp look. “Elizabeth is a dear friend. She is a light in an exceedingly dark world, a light the world cannot afford to lose, but I hate how fate has played out. How it must play out.” 

Tauriel watched him for a long moment. “Then you…” 

Legolas sighed, warily. “Yes. It seems that I do. But only for Elizabeth, not for the dwarves,” he hastened to add with his nose stuck up in the air. 

A small smile curved on Tauriel’s lips. “Of course.” 

_“Auta miqula orqu.” Go kiss an orc._

_“Dolle naa lost.” Your head is empty._

* * *

Her lungs felt like they were filled with broken shards of glass, and her chest rose shakily with each breath she dragged in through her parched lips. She shivered, a chill running through her body no matter how deeply she burrowed into the blankets. The intricate patterns on the fresco on the ceiling were lost in the blurriness that wouldn’t leave her vision, no matter how much she blinked her weary eyes. Fire streaked through her veins—a violent contrast to the cold that wrapped around her—she swallowed thickly, her throat cracked and dry. Scattered spells of awareness came and went through the night until Elizabeth’s eyes could no longer fall shut no matter how exhausted she was. 

Every little noise grated against her ears like the sharp edges of a saw—pulling back and forth the through a tree—and it made her want to scream just to drown out everything else. It would not lessen her ire, she knew that, but it would be rather amusing to see the elven healers all fluster about the ruckus. Tittering like clucking hens with looks of disapproval on their otherwise beautiful and blank faces, and Elizabeth almost found the image that her mind conjured rather amusing. A slight smile twisted on her chapped before it suddenly fell, abruptly. 

A faint shuffle, one that would have been utterly missed entirely, if she were not so painfully aware of every little sound. Elizabeth’s brow creased, her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the room, suspiciously. Her heart fluttered in her chest, a cold clammy sweat broke out along her skin. 

And then suddenly Bilbo appeared out of thin air. 

A harsh curse fell from her lips, and she blinked hard. There was no way she was going to get used to that. “Bilbo,” she sighed, the tension drained out from her as swiftly as it had built up. “By Eru, are you trying to give me a heart attack?” 

No immediate reply followed. Instead, Bilbo stared at her with horror etched into every single line of his face, and his lips pressed into a tight quivering line. All the color was leeched out of his face, leaving him sickly pale, and he covered his mouth in shock. The silence stretched onward for several more seconds before the hobbit managed to compose himself long enough to speak. “Elizabeth…what happened to you?” 

A weak sigh worked up her throat, and she looked over him, feeling weighted down by everything that had happened in the short span of time they had been in Thranduil’s care and so much more. “Bilbo, I’m…” she whispered, her throat trembled with dry, cracking pain. 

“Don’t say fine. You aren’t fine. So please spare me that lie,” Bilbo said, with a forcible tone. It was foreign off his tongue, and startled him for a split second before he pressed onward. “You look as if you stand upon death’s door, so don’t tell me that you’re fine. Tell me what has happened to you to put you in such a state!” 

Her heart sank in her chest, and she swallowed down the knot of bile that clogged up the back of her throat. Her gaze fell away from the hobbit at her bedside, and she felt guilt gnaw at the marrow of her bones. While Bilbo knew that Elizabeth faced many inner demons, she had never told him the depths of them nor about the curse that brought them to the surface. He had helped through more than he knew and he deserved the truth of it, if anyone ever had. Yet it was difficult for her to hand over such things to him, the words clutched onto her tongue refusing to fall out of her mouth. 

_“Tell me!”_ He demanded, desperation in his voice. 

Elizabeth clenched her eyes shut. “I’m cursed.” 

Bilbo sucked in a loud breath through clenched teeth. He was not sure what to think for the only curses he had ever heard of were from fairy stories where a prince was there to save the day, but something in his gut said that this was not like anything of those. His heart sank to the bottom of his feet, and crackled upon impacted. “You…you’re cursed? What does that even mean?” He blurted out, running his hand down his face in frustration. 

Elizabeth lips twisted. Elizabeth drew in a deep breath, causing an arid and fractured pain to surge through her chest. She struggled to push herself up, and made a tortured noise when her wrist gave out, causing her to ungracefully fall back against the pillows. Closing her eyes, her jaw clenched painfully tight. Her fingers knotted into the sheets beneath her and she bit the scream that climb up her throat, her frustration begging to be released. Instead, she choked it down like it was acid. “The curse is…complicated, and while the explanation is perhaps overlong, this is not the place to give it to you. You cannot linger here overlong,” she told him, opening her eyes and turning her face towards him. “The healers will be back at any time, and you can’t risk getting caught.” 

Bilbo’s leg gave out from underneath him, and he collapsed back into the nearby chair ignoring her warning entirely. He pressed his fingers into his eyes, and let out a shaken breath. “Sweet Yavanna,” he whispered, his voice strained. The muscles in his throat worked up and down, before his hands dropped from his face and he looked at Elizabeth like she the saddest thing he’d ever seen. “I knew that you had some sort of ailment, but a curse? Why did you not say anything?” 

Elizabeth took in a steady breath, pushing herself up off the bed this time with success. Her hair fell down around her, tangled and messy for it had not been brushed in over a day. “I didn’t not wish to worry you with it. No, that is not the full reason for it,” she said, pinched the bridge of her nose. “I did not wish to be reminded of it. There was a bit of solace in your not knowing. You gave me no pity, you treated me like…like I was normal, and I liked that. The rest of my family and friends, they…they do not mean to do it, but at times, I can feel the sadness that pours off of them. The worry that I might not…” 

“Might not what?” Bilbo choked out, but he already knew. 

Elizabeth’s head bowed forward. With hot tears stinging her eyes, Elizabeth looked away from Bilbo. She could not face his despair, nor face that she was the root of such anguish that consumed him. It clawed at her insides, making her feel worse than she already felt. “It’s my burden to bear,” Elizabeth replied, hoarsely. “I would not burden your with my fate.” 

“Blast you, Elizabeth!” Bilbo shoved himself out of the chair, and to his feet with a furious expression. Two angry stomps brought him to the edge of the bed, and his hazel eyes were narrowed into slits. His chest expanded with a deep breath before he reached out, and pulled her hand in between his. His eyes watered when he felt how ice cold and clammy her skin was. “Are you so determined to play the martyr that you will not allow anyone to be there for you? And how can you expect any of us to just stand by and accept it?” 

“I’m not trying to be the martyr,” Elizabeth denied, harshly. “But there is nothing that you can do for me, Bilbo. I have to find a way to end my curse, no one else can do that for me. I did not wish to place my worries on others when there is nothing they can do for me. Everyone on this journey carries so many worries already, I did not wish to add more their load. Especially not now when we are so close to facing what lies in that mountain. Now, onto immediate concerns—” 

“I’d say your health is an immediate concern,” Bilbo hissed. 

“—have you found a way out for the dwarves?” Elizabeth finished, with a stern glance at him. 

Bilbo clenched his teeth. “Yes, I have, but I’m wandering about your own way. You see the way I have planned out of here is rather treacherous, and forgive me if this incurs your ire, your fragile state is worrisome,” the hobbit stated, scathingly. “I fear that such strain would only endeavor to make you worse.” 

“It could,” Elizabeth agreed, lightly. She was not so foolish to dismiss such a thought. It had been one that lingered on her mind. She would be a burden during the escape attempt, there was no doubt about that. She would fight will all her might—she always did—but she knew her body was weak. She worried that she wouldn’t be able to protect her friends, let alone herself. Her heart quaked in chest, a crease formed along her brow. “But what other choice is there, Bilbo? If we do not break free soon then the chains will not only bind us, but hold us tightly. At least, until Durin’s Day passes.” 

“Why until then?” Bilbo commented, frowning. “I thought the King will keep the dwarves indefinitely.” 

“He wishes for jewels of the mountain…jewels that by right should belong to him,” Elizabeth explained, running a hand along her jaw. “His greatest weapon against us is to steal our time from us, and it is one he uses well. He has decided if he had not bend Thorin to his will, and gain what he seeks from the mountain, than Thorin shall not gain anything from the mountain, either. It would add insult to injury to release Thorin afterwards, knowing how devastated he would be from not being able to reclaim his homeland. Thranduil has nothing to lose here, but everything to gain by keeping us trapped. After he has nothing more to gain, there is no longer a reason to keep us bound.” 

Bilbo paled slightly by her explanation. It was still unthinkable to him, even after all this time spent scrambling through the darkness of these halls, that a King would lower himself to such pettiness. Yet he could see plainly that is exactly what Thranduil would do if given the chance, and he supposed that even King’s could be brought low by old wounds. And “old wounds” was an understatement for the history between the dwarves and elves. “Well…” He let out a light huff, and ran his hand over his pocket where is ring was kept. “Well, that’s not good, at all.” 

Elizabeth wiped clean her tearstained cheeks, and sniffled lightly. “Exactly,” she agreed, breathlessly. “All the more reasons to leave as soon as we are able, and no matter what hampers us along the way, we have no choice but to persevere—” Her sentence faltered when the door began to creak open, and her eyes darted towards Bilbo, wide with panic. 

The hobbit wordlessly slipped his ring on, and not even a split second after he became invisible, 

Legolas and Tauriel entered the room. There was something peculiar in the way they held themselves, tensed and taunted like they were prepared to face the brunt of a harsh battle. It immediately sent flutters of panics down her spine, and she drew in a hard breath through her nose. “Tauriel. Legolas,” Elizabeth greeted them, after clearing her throat. Her eyes perused them through her lashes, wondering just how much they had heard, if anything. The smile on her face became slightly strained when Tauriel shut the door, and stood guard in front of him, cutting off Bilbo’s only way to escape. “It’s good to see the both of you. It’s been dreadfully dull sitting here all by lonesome.” 

“Has it?” Legolas asked, a hint of mirth in his gaze. His lips were curved upward, as if he was amused by a some joke that she had not the pleasure of being in on. He shared a quick look with Tauriel, whom glanced around the room with a strange look on her face. The blond haired prince made his way further into the room, each step graceful as it was calculated. 

_Almost reminiscent of a cat languidly on the hunt for a mouse_ , Elizabeth realized with a sour taste in her mouth. Her heart thumped in her chest, and she hoped that Biblo treaded carefully. She realized that the two elves must have heard something, but weren’t entirely sure that there had been another person in the room. However, it would be best that Bilbo not get caught and remove what doubt there was. “Watching paint would have been significantly more enthralling than sitting in this room because I would have, at least, given me something to do.” 

Legolas let out a small scoff, a wry twist to his lips as his blue eyes scanned across the room. 

Elizabeth felt her skin crawl, restless and weary. She needed to distract the two elves if Bilbo was going to escape, but she wasn’t seeing how he was going to get out the door even with her distraction. A door appearing to open on its own would raise eyebrows and suspicion. _This was not good. This is very not good,_ she thought, a feeling of despair speared into her heart. It burrowed deep while her mind painted an image of a door being shut tightly and locked from the other side. There was out was slipping through their fingers, and there was nothing she could do about it. “I’m surprised that you managed to come and see me. Even more so that your father allowed it,” she said, trying to keep the elf’s attention focused on her. “He seems to be under the impression that your loyalty to me undermines the loyalty that you have for him. I can’t believe that he would let such a notion take root inside of his mind.” 

Legolas froze like a statue for a split second. “It may not be as unbelievable as you seem to think,” the elven prince stated, then continued his strange pacing across the floor. 

Elizabeth blinked. “What’s that supposed to me?” 

Legolas flashed a quick smirk at her before his arm lashed out, his hand curling around air, but Elizabeth’s heart dropped into her stomach. She knew it was not air he held for Bilbo let out a great cry, and she tossed the blank off of her intent on getting out of bed. Her feet were planted on the cold floor—so cold that it sent needles of pain through the soles of her feet—and attempted to stand, but her knees wobbled before they collapsed. If it were not for Tauriel’s swiftness, she would have ended up face down on the floor. 

“Legolas, don’t hurt him!” Elizabeth pleaded. She couldn’t exactly plead for him to let go because she had a feeling that it would fall on deaf ears, and she tried to move towards him, using Tauriel to steady her. “Legolas, please.” 

“Hush, Elizabeth,” Tauriel whispered, calmly. “Legolas, has no intention of harming your friend. Do you, Legolas?” The Guard Captain sent him a pointed look over Elizabeth shoulder, with a deep frown on her lips. 

“No, I will not your harm your friend,” Legolas agreed, lightly. “So long as he reveals himself, he shall not be in any danger from me.” 

Elizabeth drew in deep breaths, her eyes flickered from Legolas down to his hands that moved in harsh and erratic movement where Bilbo struggled to get free. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she closed her eyes in mute despair. “Bilbo, do as he says,” Elizabeth ordered, her tone overwhelmed. “Please.” 

For a long time, Elizabeth didn’t think Bilbo would listen to her, but the hobbit gave a loud huff before he reappeared. Elizabeth noted that he carefully slid his hand out of his pocket. He must have put his hand down in his pocket before wiggling the magic ring free, and if the situation hadn’t be so severe, the utterly gob smacked expressions on the elves’ faces would have made her laugh. Instead, it only made her want to cry. 

“A hobbit?” Tauriel gaped, stunned. 

Legolas frowned down at Bilbo, looking him from head to toe. “A Halfling? Travelling this far? It is unheard of, and yet here you are. How is that you are able to become invisible?” The prince was genuinely curious, and he felt a bit of admiration for the hobbit. He had no doubts that this hobbit, Bilbo had been wandering these halls for as long as the dwarves had been here. The little incidents—food going missing, bandages, and blankets—that had seemingly no explanation suddenly made since. 

“I am half of nothing!” Bilbo snapped, his cheeks flushed. 

“Ancient hobbit-y tricks,” Elizabeth answered, sharply. “You wouldn’t understand.” 

“Perhaps not. The hobbits are far more clever than others give them credit,” Legolas mused, tilting his head towards the side. “The rare books that mention hobbits say they do not travel, and stay in their homey holes in the ground. It would never cross anyone’s mind that the dwarves would bring a hobbit along with them, and not especially one that has such tricks. I imagine you’ve been feeding the dwarves information, among other things, and have been planning to help them escape.” 

Bilbo looked Legolas straight in the eye, his gaze stubborn and dark. His lips were pressed into a firm line, and it was obvious that Bilbo would not speak again. He would not allow them to use him in any way to hurt his friends. No matter how much tempting the urge to put on his ring and rush out of the room might be. 

A smile broke across Legolas’s face, and his grip on Bilbo loosened. “Such ferocity for such a small being,” the elven prince chuckled, pleasantly surprised. “I see why the dwarves chose to bring you along. If only more people guarded those that they cared about so fiercely.” 

“Legolas, I…” Elizabeth’s mind raced to figure out a way to salvage this, but she was at an utter loss. She didn’t know what to say to sway Legolas or Tauriel to their cause, and in her heart, she would feel horrid for attempting to manipulate them. So her voice trembled until it went silent, and instead looked at him with a beseeching stare. 

“Do not anguish, Elizabeth,” Tauriel told her. 

“How can I not?” Elizabeth asked. 

Legolas allowed his muted expression to thaw and soften. “Because we not here to stop you from escaping,” Legolas informed them, releasing the hobbit and taking a step back. He placed his hands behind him, and smirked at the looks on Elizabeth and Bilbo’s faces. “We’re here to help.” 

Bilbo made a sputtering noise like a bucket of ice cold water had been dropped down on him. 

Elizabeth mouth moved up and down like a fish. With a sharp shake of her head, Elizabeth gathered her wits about her and she looked at the two elves through narrowed eyes. “What?” She demanded, incredulously. 

The two elves smiled in reply. 

* * *

Kili shivered, wrapping his arms around his bodies tighter. He had sacrificed his blanket for Bombur’s comfort, and curled up in the corner as best as he could. He slept sporadically as night settled upon them; dreams came and went in every form and shape imaginable. And a certain red headed elf stared in more of his dreams more than he could admit. A flash of her smile and he was warmed. Of course, the cold always came seeping back in when he awoke. He didn’t know what was happening, or why he felt this way. 

Actually, that was a total lie. He knew exactly what was going on. He just didn’t know what to do about it. A shivering breath came out of him when he heard the cell door pull open, and he pulled his eyes open only to find the elf of his dream standing there. He blinked several times, and then asked, “Is this a dream?” 

The elven woman quirked up a brow. 

He clamped his mouth shut after that. He wouldn’t be a source of amusement for her because his pride couldn’t handle the object of his affections—and he still denied it, with each breath—mocking him. His dark eyes narrowed when she said something to the two other guards that flanked her; the sweet language of the elves had never sounded so pleasing. However, his appreciation of her voice faded to horror when he watched the elves make to take Bombur away. “Wait,” Kili rose to his feet, a bit unsteady. He went as far as he could before the other guard pointed a weapon at him, and he swallowed thickly. His entire world became focused on the tip of the arrow pointed at him, and the sneering face behind it. While he did not think his pretty elf would shot him, he could not say the same for compatriot here. “Where are you taking him?” 

“Silence, dwarf scum.” 

“Enough,” the Guard Captain said, sharply. “Lower your weapon.” 

“Guard Captain,” the male elf protested. 

“Now.” Her voice went cold and without compromise. Her hazel eyes flickered over to Kili after the elven man lowered his bow, and the dwarf could see a hint of her features soften ever so slightly. “We make to take him to the Healing Halls. The healers can tend to him much easier there than from down here.” 

Kili’s brow bunched together until there was a knot in the middle of his brow. “Your king agreed to such?” He asked, with mild confusion. 

“King Thranduil is merciful when the need arises,” was all she said. 

Kili shot her a doubtful look. Not that he doubted her word, but the fact that their King was capable of such mercies. “You swear that no harm will befall him?” He asked, his tone quiet and low. 

Her eyes held his steadily, glowing and luminous in the darkness, and he saw no deceit there. “You have my word that he will be protected,” she promised, earnestly. She ignored the dirty looks her fellow guards sent her as if appalled that she would even bother with the dwarf. 

The fact she was willing to weather the animosity that helping the dwarves would raise between her and her kin made his heart feel strange inside of his chest. The denials that rang inside of his head got quieter and quieter the longer he was in her presence, and his tongue fumbled inside of his mouth with words that he knew better than to say. His hands weren’t clutched tightly in his lap, eyeing the elves that took Bombur away warily. He knew, somehow deep inside of him, that she would keep her word, but he knew better than to expect the same from her kin. 

The Guard Captain lingered by the cell door long after her companions had vanished. She stood there as still as a statue, a distance look in her eyes like she was contemplating something. Her shoulders moved, an inch upward, as she drew in a deep, long breath. “Did you mean it?” She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper. 

Kili looked up at her with a slight frown. “Hmm?” 

A slight pink dusted the elven woman’s cheeks. “That you wished you could show me the moon and stars beyond Mirkwood borders?” She elaborated, her eyes were on everything, but him. One could say she was looking to make sure no other guards lingered nearby so she would not be overheard, but Kili had a feeling that was not it at all. 

Kili sat there, stunned that she would willing bring up their last conversation. With how quickly she fled away from him, he had figured that she had been uncomfortable by his boldness. A longing swelled up in his chest; the same need that all dwarves who met their One felt, the need to be whole now that his soul had found the other half. “Yes,” he breathed out. 

Their eyes met through the bars of the cell, and for one hot second, there was a charge between them. The air seemed to shift and tremble as if it was trying to tug them towards one another, and then she was gone, like a thief in the night. If only she knew the value of what she had taken, and the impact that it would have on Kili’s life there on out. 

* * *

Two days later in the early hours in the morning when the drink had been flowing and the majority of elves had partook too much, or had already crept into the closest bedroll was when they decided to enact their escape plan. Bilbo walked, invisibly, behind Legolas down to the wine cellar. His heart was firmly in his throat, he took each step with a dedicated carefulness and his eyes would occasionally flicker to the young—young by elven standards anyways—prince’s back. He was not ready to lay his faith in the elf’s hands, no matter how sound of an explanation was given. It was practically inconceivable that they would have such a sudden change of heart, though he supposed that the state Elizabeth was in would turn even the hardest of hearts. Bilbo bit his lower lip, pressed against the barrels as Legolas spoke to the evles, watching them with a suspicious frown on his face. His suspicion was for naught it seemed because not a word passed from Legolas’s lips of Bilbo’s presences like he was half afraid of. Instead, the prince was dismissing the two from their post. 

“But, my prince, I have the dwarves in my care,” the dark haired elf spoke, his voice laced with the unmistakable slur of too much spirits. Clutched in between his bloodless fingers was a metal ring with several keys hanging off of it, and they jiggled as his fingers trembled with nerves. It was not very often, it seemed to Bilbo, that these elves had to deal with royalty. 

Legolas gave a condescending scoff with an airy wave of his hand that was eerily similar to his father, more than he likely knew. “They’re locked up. Where can they go?” The prince asked, with a haughty smirk on his lips. “Besides, the starlight is meant to be enjoyed by everyone, and no stars shine down here.” 

The two elves shared a look of uncertainty for one prolonged second. 

“If your highness believes it would be no trouble for us to join…?” The younger of the pair, and the less inebriated, stated, cautiously. 

“Go.” Legolas reassured, with a careless laugh. Go drink and make merry. There are many elf maidens seeking a dance.” 

The two guards seemed uplifted that they would not miss out on the festivities, and started to leave when, Legolas stopped them. “Leave the keys down here,” Legolas commanded. Polite and genially his tone, but the command was still to be obeyed. “It is better to leave them out of the hands of elves made brash by the drink and with the want to prove themselves that they’d dare to steal them to go looking for a fight with the dwarves.” 

Bilbo gnawed on his thumb, hapless to let the scene play onward like some midday festival play written up by Roderick Proudfoot that was tedious to watch until the end because otherwise be rude. 

“As you wish, your highness,” the elf said, bowing at the waist. The other elf followed suit before the two quickly hightailed it out of there, eager to join the feast. When it was apparent the two guards were well out of earshot, and Bilbo approached Legolas. 

“Come. Let us head down to the cellar,” Legolas said, after giving the keys to Bilbo. The two made their way towards the cells in relative silence which was frankly a shame. The hobbit had always loved to learn about elves and their culture. He would have relished learning more about Mirkwood, but the capture of his friends had soured his judgment. Perhaps if their escape went well then he would offer the elven prince an olive branch, but for now, he would keep his distance. 

“I will guard you from afar once we reach the dwarves. I fear they will not take my presence that well, and it would be better to reveal myself once we’ve made the escape,” Legolas informed the hobbit out of the corner of his mouth, after they delved into the darker hallways. The air became colder and more harsh with their decent, a feeling the hobbit was all too familiar with on his daily trips down into Mirkwoods’ depths. Finally the elf pulled to a stop just before the cells came into view, and placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. It startled Bilbo because he was invisible after all, but then again, Legolas had managed to catch him in the Healing Halls, so perhaps it shouldn’t be so shocking. 

“This is where I leave you, _little one_ ,” Legolas told him, in a mild tone. For all his composure, the elven prince could not shake the sense of worry that clung to him. “May Eru guide our steps so we get out of this unseen and unscathed.” 

Bilbo bristled at being called ‘little one’—his mother had taught him some elvish, thank you very much—but he inclined his head, politely. “And the same to you,” Bilbo told the prince, and watched with fascination how easily Legolas melded with the shadows a second later. For elves—who praised the starlight and sunshine—they were often forced to immerse themselves in the dark. Shaking his head to free his mind from such musing, Bilbo continued down the pathway. 

He was so nervous. Despite his mistrust over the elves because they hadn’t been exactly helpful or all that kind to his friends, he would be more than grateful should they prove true to their word. Elizabeth and Bombur couldn’t escape the way that he had planned. Bombur while inching towards a recovery was still very much tired and sleeping. If he fell into the rapids, he would surely drown and there would be no way to save him. Elizabeth couldn’t handle it, either. She had just started to resemble a normal human being the last time Bilbo had seen two days prior, and he feared that putting her through such strain would only hamper her recovery. Losing any of his friends was not a thought that he could bear. 

The worrisome thoughts lifted when he heard the dwarves, grumbling and complaining. _Like always,_ he thought, with a fondness to his smile. He heard Bofur who was the closest cell to him, grunted, “I’ll wager the moon is on the decline. The night must nearly be over.” 

“We’re never going to reach the mountain, are we?” Ori asked, defeated. 

Bilbo’s heart clenched in his chest, and he pulled the ring off his finger. He couldn’t fight the grin that took over his face, and he held up the keys coming around the corner. “Not stuck in here, you are not,” the hobbit said, mischievously. “Who is ready for a prison break?” 

At the sound of the hobbit’s voice, Thorin and the other dwarves jumped up and rushed towards their cell doors. “Bilbo! You are back!” Balin gasped, a glassy sheen in his eyes. It had been several days since they had seen the hobbit, and had begun to fear the worst. 

“Shhh! There could be guards nearby!” Bilbo hushed them, but he could not blame them for their enthusiasm. He felt it, too, coursing through his bones and the second they were free from the woods and it’s King, he would likely burst into tears. He hastily unlocked Thorin’s cell and lets him out. 

Thorin smiled, brightly. “I never doubted you, Bilbo Baggins,” he stated, clapping Bilbo on the shoulders. 

Bilbo didn’t allow himself to bask in Thorin’s praise, though. “There is still much work to be done,” the hobbit fussed, blushing slightly. He had never gotten praise back at home for anything more than his gardening prowess. He always felt accomplished, but achingly empty at the same time. Here amongst the dwarves who claimed him as brother, he felt whole. He felt like he had a family. Clearing his throat, he proceeded to let all the dwarves out of their various cells. The despair that had perfumed and thickened the air vanished replaced with glee at their good fortune, and most importantly with renewed hope. 

“This way,” Bilbo gestured for them to follow him. The dwarves did so without hesitation. 

Until Bofur realized something. “Wait! Wait!” Bofur went still, panic flashed across his face. “Where’s Bombur? Where is my brother? Why isn’t he with you, Bilbo?” The toymaker caught the hobbit by the arm, and brought the group to a screeching halt. “The elves took him from the cell he shared with Kili—” 

“Bombur’s fine, Bofur,” Bilbo reassured the dwarf, quickly. “Safe with Elizabeth.” 

“And we are on our way to retrieve them, no?” Dwalin asked, after a long pause. 

Bilbo could see the cogs in Dwalin’s head working, and he knew the warrior already knew the answer to that question. It put Bilbo in a rather difficult position to tell what was happening right away. He had hoped to save it until they were down in the cellar, and really didn’t have a choice. He hadn’t wanted to risk Thorin’s stubbornness in rushing off to save Elizabeth, and potentially expose them. “Elizabeth and Bombur have another way out. Bombur is still slumbering and exhausted, and the way I have for us to get out would not be good for him,” Bilbo told them, compassionately. He did not mention Elizabeth’s condition because she did not want to the dwarves to worry, knowing they needed to be focused solely on their escape. “So we devised another way for them to escape, and we have to get moving if we are to meet them where we planned on.” 

“We cannot leave without them,” Kili gaped. 

“We have to. There is no other way,” Bilbo sighed. “They have an escape, I promise you. I would not have come down and got you out of your cells if I wasn’t certain that Elizabeth and Bombur would be able to escape, too. Just trust me on this.” 

Thorin looked like he sorely tempted to press the hobbit further about Elizabeth and Bombur’s escape, which made a nervous sweat break out along the nap of Bilbo’s neck. However, Dwalin stepped forward and placed his hand on his leader’s shoulder. “The lass is capable, Thorin,” Dwalin said to his brother-in-arms, quietly. “Neither she nor Bilbo would take this risk unless they knew it was the only path that they had to choose, and if she thought that following Bilbo wasn’t ours, she’d be here to correct us all. Master Baggins included.” 

Bilbo snorted. It was true. 

Thorin looked like he had swallowed an unpeeled lemon, but after a heartbeat, he inclined his head. “You are right,” Thorin murmured, his hands curled into bloodless fists at his side. His blue eyes were filled with a darkness—regret, uncertainty, worry—that he had to push downward, even if it felt like he was crushing his heart in the process. He did not like this plan, but what other alternative did, they have? He hurt so bad that he couldn’t even breathe at the thought of leaving Elizabeth behind, and there was a knife-like ache piercing through his gut. “Lead the way, Master Baggins.” 

_His heart felt very heavy no doubt,’_ Bilbo mused, feeling very much the same thing. No plan was perfect after all. If one thing went wrong then it could unravel everything, and end up with the Company fractured. Someone could be left behind, or worse all of them would be caught and stuck right back where they started. Except worse because Bilbo would likely get caught with them if all this went wrong, and he didn’t want to think what would happen to the prince and the Guard Captain if their betrayal was discovered. “Right,” Bilbo said, the apple of his throat bobbed. “Let’s hurry. The guards may be distracted, but I don’t think any of us want to risk it.” 

* * *

Elizabeth stood in the shadows of a great pillar, and shifted on the balls of her feet to ease the ache in her joints. It was a temporary relief, but there was no choice. They had to escape this morn before dawn broke over the horizon, and no matter how weak she still was, she had to force it to the back of her mind. _This disguise was just not going to work_ , Elizabeth feared. The maid outfit was ill-fitted on Elizabeth’s body for it was meant for someone much taller than she, and made the woman looked like a child playing dress up. The skirt of it dragged across the floor by several inches, and she resisted the urge to tug and pull on the clothing, instead kept her tightly on the laundry trolley. Her hair hung down around her face—and more importantly over her ears—so if upon first glance, an elf would be fooled. If the elf was greatly intoxicated, perhaps. 

Elizabeth looked down inside the trolley full of laundry and saw the rags fly upward with Bombur’s snore. She winced slightly, looking around to make sure no one had heart that. The elves were several halls away from her, still celebrating, but if a wandering guard was nearby then she would be in much trouble. She could pretend that the noise was from her. However if the guard got up close not only would her disguise would fall through, but she couldn’t rightly explain why the dirty laundry was bleeding. 

_Eru, Yavanna, Aüle, please let this work,_ Elizabeth sent up the quick prayer. It couldn’t hurt, now could it? Then something moved out of the corner of her eye, and her spine stiffened. She released the trolley to reach underneath her apron for her one dagger. It was all Tauriel could sneak to her before she went to see what armor and weapons of the dwarves that she could gather without gaining anyone’s suspicion. Her head dipped downward when two guards came around the corner. They were still a great distance away from her, and Elizabeth teeth sank harshly into the inside of her cheek. She wasn’t sure she could knock both of them out without one of them screaming, or getting away. 

In the end, she need not to. A familiar head of red hair came around the corner, and swiftly Tauriel caught up with the two maids, directing them away from Elizabeth’s hiding spot. The two guards sent Tauriel almost spiteful looks before they did as they were told, and Elizabeth slumped in relief when they disappeared out of sight. She closed her eyes, leaning the back of her head against the pillar and fought to steady her hammering heart. “I thought I was one second away from being caught,” Elizabeth complained, her eyes sliding open to send Tauriel an accusing look. 

“Then it was fortuitous that I arrive when I did,” Tauriel said, with a hint of a smile. A heartbeat later her features smoothed out and she surveyed the area around the carefully before she turned her gaze back towards Elizabeth. “I have a wagon ready to take us down the path, but it will not be an easy one. The roadway nearest to the river has not been used for many years now, and it quick overgrown and unruly. However, it is better than going through the forest itself. The children of Ungoliant still have nests too close for comfort, and a horse and carriage would be easy prey for them.” 

Elizabeth pushed the trolley forward, with a grunt of effort. If not for the help of Tauriel discreetly pulling from the front they would not have even got the cart to move forward, but once the wheels started to spin, it was much easier to manage. Bombur slept onward, oblivious to what was going on around him. “Good. I…I am rather squeamish when it comes to those eight legged beasts,” Elizabeth admitted, shuddering. “A rough ride down an unused path is a great deal better than trying to outrun them.” 

“My thoughts exactly,” Tauriel nodded. 

_When they got to lake town,_ Elizabeth thought to herself, pushing the cart down the hallway where Tauriel led, _I am taking the world’s longest nap ever._ The trek down from the Healing Hall to the servants entrance was not so long, but still sapped almost all the energy Elizabeth had built back up. After Tauriel cleverly tricked the guards into leaving their post, they pushed their way through the entrance out into the night. The trees weren’t not so thick here so the moon and stars shined down painting the world a pale blue—a pale blue that reminded Elizabeth of Thorin’s eyes. Her heart kicked in her chest at the thought of Thorin, and she chewed on her lower lip, hoping that the dwarves were well on their way to freedom. Each second that passed that they struggled down towards the wagon, Elizabeth felt the fear of getting caught red handed burned brighter and hotter underneath her skin. She had never recalled being so anxious before—sans her nightmares and encounters with Azog—and she wouldn’t even deny the tears of respite that sprung into her eyes when they finally arrived. She would however, deny how much trouble that her and Tauriel had to lift Bombur out of the cart and into the wagon. They may have hit his head, and he was going to have a nice goose egg on his forehead when he woke up. 

Pulling herself into the back of the carriage, Elizabeth glanced at the three barrels. “How much of the dwarves belongings were you able to reclaim?” she wondered, grasping the thick rope between her hands and went about securing Bombur to the wagon. 

“Their personal effects were simple enough to gather. The elves had been tasked to dispose of them, and no one missed them when I claimed them before their destruction. The weapons were more challenging, but I managed to grab as many as I could without suspicion. The King often likes to look over confiscated weapons, and those that he does not claim find their way to the smiths for reform,” Tauriel commented, running her palm down the horse’s neck soothingly. She from their swiftly went about making sure the harness was on properly before she got up into the jockey box, and took the reins in her hands. “The armor however, with its bulk and weight was impossible. I grab what smaller pieces there were along with the furs and clothing, but any more than that…” Her voice trailed off for a long moment before she sighed. “The others had already grown resentful towards because of my behavior towards the dwarves. Many feel that I was too lenient with the dwarves, and that did…not sit well with everyone under my command. Though I suppose given our current circumstances, their fears would be justified.” 

Checking the ropes, Elizabeth was satisfied that would hold and slumped down in the wagon with her knees curled up towards her chest. “It is not an easy choice to do what’s right, especially when it means standing up to those closest to you,” Elizabeth told her friend, glancing up at the starry sky through the tree branches. They still had about an hour before pre-dawn would start turning that dark velvet blanket into a light baby blue. “I just hope that your faith in us proves to be worth it in the end.” 

Tauriel hands tightened around the reins, and she craned her head to peer back at Elizabeth over her shoulder. “So do I,” she replied, the briefest hesitation in her voice. She turned back around swiftly, and straightened her spine with purpose. “Are you ready? Once we start the course, we will not be able to go back.” 

Elizabeth gave her a droll look. “Going back was never a choice,” she answered, with a rather grim tone. Her heart nearly leaped out of her chest at the loud crack of the reins, and the horse started pulling the wagon along an overgrown path. She cast a quick look back to the fortress, and only hoped that the Company had made it out. The thought of them being recaptured made her feel sick to her stomach, and a despondent ache foraged into her heart, stealing the air right from out of her lungs. If they did not escape, Elizabeth would not hesitate to charge right back up to those gates with hell and fury to get them out. “At least, I hope it doesn’t become a choice.” 

The old road that ran alongside the river was truly as overgrown, and disused just like Tauriel warned. Elizabeth fingernails bit into the side of the wagon as she was jostled about, sometimes a foot up into the air. Her head snapped up and down like the Babe Ruth bobble head that she randomly recalled sat in her father’s old truck, long before the time of real monster and magic. Bombur’s snores, the rolls of the wagon’s wheels, created a broken symphony that made her head throb and ache. She clenched her eyes closed, and gritting her teeth so tightly together to drown out all other sensations. _Just a little longer then you’ll be back with the Company. You’ll be back with Thorin and Bilbo and all will be well,_ she thought to herself, holding onto to that thought. 

And then a warg’s howl cut through the night. 

* * *

Farmer Maggot was out chopping wood in his garden. It was well passed sunset, and he would normally have this all done if it weren’t for those Took ruffians trying to sneak some of his crops. He spent all afternoon chasing them off, and then went to Bree to lodge a complaint against them. Hopefully, a Ranger would show up and go give those hobbits a warning to stay away from his property. He brought the ax down, cutting clean through the wood, and his dog suddenly jumped to its feet at the sound of horses hooves coming closer to the house. 

The dog bound towards the fence to start barking, when it froze in step. The dog raised its nose upward, and scented the air. The reaction was instant. The dog’s tail curled between its back legs, and he turned on heel, rushing back towards the house. 

“Moxy? What’s a matter, Moxy?” Farmer Maggot frowned. His dog have never behaved so strangely in all the years that he had her, but before he could check on his whimpering animal, a group of black riders appeared at his gate. 

His heart nearly stopped in his chest for he knew instantly that these were no normal black riders. The beast they rode on were monstrous horse that skin looked like it was decaying aware, and they had eyes that were blood red. The riders were massive—human size—in tattered black robe, and sharp and spiked armored. The shadows clung to them, feeding and growing off of them. The grass and plants near them seemed to wilt away, and die. 

Darkness oozed off them, and terrified, Farmer Maggot cowered back towards his doorway. His dog stood right behind him, and tugged on the back of his pants leg, trying to pull him inside the house. 

One black rider drew closer to the gate. “Shire? Baggins?” A voice so evil and malevolently that it made the temperature around them drop until it was so cold that no such thing as warmth could ever exist within it. 

Farmer Maggot stumbled back. “There’s no Bagginses around here! They are all up in Hobbiton…that way,” he pointed towards the Shire, before he grabbed his dog and rushed into the house. He slammed the door closed, and peered out the window to see the black riders gallop away. 

Farmer Maggot’s stomach rolled. “Oh, sweet Yavanna, what have I done?” 

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF CHAPTER!
> 
> This chapter came off a bit of filler to me, but it was necessary to get the ball rolling. I have been struggling with an ugly bout of depression so its been hard to write, and I finally worked myself back up. I am not a hundred percent happy with this chapter so certain spots may get edited at a later date. I think it might be lack of longing between Elizabeth and Thorin that makes it feel empty to me, lol. The next chapter will go more in depth with Legolas and Tauriel's motivation as well as Kili's plight with his growing feelings for Tauriel. We will also see the Dwarves side of the escape, and the battle against the orcs, and more. I hope you all enjoyed!


	30. The Great Escape Pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank emmajons, Kalakagami, Lodriel, WifeofRiverSong, AmethystSiri, Yameko, Skendo, Mintaka55, Prisioux, FallenStars, Ivory_Feather, springleaf, SilverWolfQueen, Megankitty, YzeroY, NiteOwlNest, featheredstag, SpartanEra, gail32, skyhighwriter, Rosethebookwurm, Afraima, tamerofdragons, LadyxLee, Lucson, Zabi_Chan, lilono, CrimsonLife, Andria, Bluefire14, Karcee, Sayomi_Night, 0102and03, LRazz, love112love, Direhart, alien94, Ayyyeee, GrammarGrrrl, Catann, moon_goddess_118, sweetsgal, Dusk_Lilly, earedien, kalin128, annievogel90, greasergirlalex, Starkid_Impala015, Just4Me, mehg11, EbonyLeijon, edelweissmaia, DanteOphydian, RegalMagnus, fairykia, Elashor_Seger, Dances_With_Vulcans, PerfectxInfinity, i11iad, AgentLilyAEvans and hwinde and the 91 guests that left kudos! You all are amazing!  
> I want to thank emmajons, Kyuubi, Lodriel, haksolffy, Yameko, Slickkrickk, Mintaka55, ayris89, springleaf, SilverWolfQueen, Chromia_Lights, NiteOwlNest, HisKing, SpartanEra, rubypen93, Aikosan, DragonSlayer2526, reflected_nightmare, Fey4life, LadyxLea, MooredMermaid, Zabi_Chan, ClarafromthewinOswald, lilono, Emrfangirl, Andria, Bluefire14, Lmd_dk, PhoenixFire0427, AloraKast, mdowney3, Catann, Avendia, Rosethebookwurm, aryannoakenshield, idrilcelebrindal, Dusk_Lilly, Starkid_Impala015, AgentLilyAEvans, candy_hearts, i11iad for the book marks! Thanks a bunch!  
> I want to thank Ivory Feather, InvalidUser, troubleonemstreet, Terri for the comments and support! :D  
> Inspired by the songs:  
> “In Chains” by Shaman Harvest

* * *

CHAPTER THIRTY 

“The Great Escape Pt 2”

* * *

A sense of urgency slice through the air with white-hot precision. The warg howl was answered by the horn of elven patrol, echoing through the forest. It seems their escape would not go as unnoticed as planned, no matter which foe greeted them along the rough and jagged path. “Is he secure?” Tauriel questioned, a hint of urgency in her tone. Her eyes scoured the darkness, for any sight of the wargs in the distance. “It appears that we may have more of a battle on our hands than we first anticipated. If we are caught by elves, then we will be stuck in the dungeons below.” 

“And if the wargs get us, then we’re dead,” Elizabeth said, her tone breathless. Her fingers checked the rope, and saw that it was holding well. “The binding holds! Can the stead bear going any faster?” 

“He is a warhorse. He will not waver!” Tauriel reassured her, using the reigns to urge the horse to ride as fast as it could. The hooves against the earth sounded like thunder, and the wagon creaked and groaned underneath the rough pace. Elizabeth’s fingers latched onto the side with a knuckle white grip, while she placed herself in front of Bombur to head off any enemy that dared to appear out of the darkness. 

Her heart leapt into her throat when two wargs burst from the tree line, and immediately gave chase. Tauriel urged the horse to gallop as fast as his hooves would allow, and told Elizabeth, “Hold on!” 

Elizabeth braced herself against the side of the wagon, trying to not be thrown out as it rushed down the hill. Her discolored eyes were locked on the enemy that would not give up. Once a warg set upon their prey, nothing could end their feeding frenzy save for death. Foam and spittle dripped downward from their great jaws, and Elizabeth acted fast, drawing her bow and quiver from the nearby barrel. The wagon hit a great stone, and caused it to jostle upward. She was thrown a foot in the air, and if it had not been for her quick reflexes grasping the rope, she would have fallen out onto the ground and left at the mercy of fiends. As she crashed back down, her head smacked into the side of the wagon, disorienting her as flesh pain blistered through her skull. Her tongue smarted where she had bit down on it, and blood coated the inside of her mouth. With a harsh breath, she rolled over onto the back and set her feet against a barrel to keep herself from sliding out of the wagon. Her fingers pulled an arrow free from her quiver and she drew it back with her bow. 

Her vision was blur, and the constant battery of the wagon made it hard to aim at the swift and agile creatures. A prayer to Eru on her tongue, she released the first arrow. It soared through the air, striking one warg in the face. The beast released a horrid howl, and stumbled, shocked by the sudden pain. It was not a lethal strike by any means, but it at least slowed one of the vicious predators down for a moment. Heart wedged painfully into the back of her throat, Elizabeth scrambled to pull another arrow few when the second warg leapt forward towards wagon. One great paw catch the wedge of the wagon, and it’s claws splintered through the wood holding tight. The other paw swiped out at her, catching her shin and tearing clean through her clothing and skin. Blood dripped down her leg, and she pulled it back, sliding haphazardly in the back of the wagon. She tried to aim at the creature but the wagon jolted forward. She lost her grip on her arrow, and it went sliding out of her reach. 

The warg start to heave itself forward, ready to strike when an axe swung downward and smashed clean through its skull. Elizabeth startled, and turned wide eyes on Bombur who blinked sleepily with a grump frown on his face. The dwarf pulled the axe free from the beast, and the warg slid off the back of the wagon. “Where’s the food? Bombur said, looking confused. 

“Bombur, you’re awake!” Elizabeth cried, joyously. 

“Awake?” The red headed dwarf said, a frown on his brow. “You mean I was asleep? I dreamt the food? It was all a lie?” 

“I’m sorry, Bombur, that the food was a lie. I promise we will find some when we aren’t running from elves and wargs,” Elizabeth told him, with a fleeting smile. Her dexterous finger drew out another arrow and her eyes locked on the warg that was still chasing them. 

“Elves? Where?” Bombur demanded, hotly. He looked all around them, and then spotted Tauriel who was driving the carriage. “Who is she? Why are we in a wagon with a she-elf?” 

“She is a friend!” Elizabeth released the arrow. The warg managed to dodge it, much to the human woman’s frustration. 

“She is an _elf_!” 

“And she can hear you!” Tauriel countered, twisting her body to fling a dagger through the air. It glinted in the morning sun that peered over the horizon, and struck true. The warg howl was cut short, and the beast fell dead to the ground. The wagon rocked and creaked to a stop once there were no enemies in plain sight. “The wargs are missing their riders. The orcs let their beasts free to roam the countryside, likely to hunt the elven patrols along the borders.” 

“This is Azog’s doing,” Elizabeth said, with fear in her eyes. “I am sure of it.” 

“Azog?” Tauriel looked horrified. “The Defiler lives?” 

“Yes. He has put a price on Thorin’s head,” Elizabeth breathed out, leaning wearily against the wagon’s side. The chase with the wargs had drained her of what precious little energy she had, and there wasn’t a part of her body that did not ache. “We need to get them. They will face more worse a foe then the elven guards who bar their way to freedom.” 

“Bar their way to—” Bombur sputtered. “What in Mahal’s sagging ball sack is going on here?” 

Elizabeth moistened her dry lips, and looked over at her dwarven friend. “Bombur, I know things are confusing. You have been ill for a long time. You fell into the waters in the forest, do you remember that?” She asked him, her tone gentle yet urgent. When he nodded, she continued brusquely, “We were taken by the Mirkwood elves shortly afterwards and have been held prison ever since. We are in the middle of our escape, and I know that doesn’t explain all of what has happened, or why Tauriel here is helping us escape. But I beg you hold your questions for a more opportune time. The hour grows dark even as the sun rises and enemies will fall upon us if we do not keep moving.” 

Bombur absorbed her words, and then nodded his head. “Alright, lass, but I’ll be holding ye to that.” 

“I expect nothing less,” Elizabeth smiled. A nearby howl wiped the smile off of her face, and her eyes turned towards Tauriel. “We need to go now. We have to get to the others swiftly. I fear the road to freedom does not come without burdens.” 

“Agreed,” Tauriel said, cracking the reigns. The horse neighed, loudly and rushed forward. Elizabeth groaned as her body was jerked, making her painfully aware of all her aches and bruises. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked at Bombur who looked at her with concern shining in his eyes. 

“I’m fine, Bombur,” she told him, mustering up a half-hearted smile. “I’ll be fine.” 

She only wished she truly believed that. 

* * *

They had reached the cellar without incident. Bilbo felt his scalp prickle with uneasy, not looking forward to the dwarves’ reaction to his escape plan. They whispered worriedly behind them, and he could feel the frustration vibrate off of them when they realized where they were. “This way,” the hobbit ordered, wearily.” 

Kili gave him a wide eyed look of disbelief. “We’re in the cellars!” 

“Yes, we are,” Bilbo said, slowly. “That’s a good observation.” 

“Bilbo, what are ye thinking? You were supposed to be leading us out, not further in!” Bofur demanded, in a hoarse whisper. He had his hat in between his fingers, wringing it worriedly. 

Bilbo placed his hands on his hips. “I know what I’m doing! I have gotten you all this far, haven’t I? I wouldn’t be taking you down here if I thought we’d end up caught. Now, this way! Quietly,” he added, with a stern-faced look for measure at the group of twelve for good measure. After all that he has done to get them out, he’d be a soft footed lily licker before he’d let them get away with complaining about him saving them rotting in those cells. He led them to a large which barrels had been stacked sideways in the middle of the room. All the barrels had been opened, and had been stacked here so they could be sent to Lake Town to be reused. 

“Alright,” Bilbo drew in a deep breath and steeled his nerves. “Everyone into the barrels.” 

The stares he received for that sentence alone shaved years off of his life. Dwalin stepped forward, and snapped, “Are ye mad, laddie? They’ll find us!” 

“No, they won’t, I promise you! But only if do as I say and do it quickly. Please, please, you must trust me!” Bilbo hissed, underneath his breath. His eyes flickered around anxiously and his heart jolted in his chest when he heard a commotion in the distance. 

“Do as he says!” Thorin said, through gritted teeth. 

The dwarves grumbled, but with a surprising swiftness climbed into the barrels. Once in the barrels, Biblo walked along and made sure that every dwarf was accounted for. It wouldn’t do have left someone unwittingly behind. As he passed by, Bofur poked his head out of the barrel and asked, “What do we do now?” Bilbo walked over to the lever and glanced back at them over his shoulder. “Hold your breath,” he told them, with a sympathetic twist of his lips. 

“Uh, I don’t like the sound of that. Why we be needing to hold our breath?” Oin grumbled, loudly. 

Bilbo pulled the lever, and flinched back from the shouts of twelve dwarves was a cacophony against the stone walls, as the barrels fell through the trap door into the churning waters below. The hobbit pulled at his ringing ears, and leaned forward to peer down through the door. He could see the angry dwarves below before the current swept them away, and felt a tremble rush through him from head to toe knowing that he would have to jump in after. Before he could muster up the courage to follow after, he heard a clatter from behind him. He whirled around, and gave a cry of fright at the unknown elf that stood there. 

The elf shouted something, and charged forward. 

Bilbo feared this was the end, but then Legolas launched down the staircase, his hand grasping the back of the unknown elf’s clothing. He pulled him back and rammed his elbow into the back of his skull, ending the elf to the ground. “Time to go, Master Baggins,” the Prince stated, his tone breathless and urgent. Judging by the shouts that came from above, the dwarves’ absence had been noticed. Without a chance to reply, the elf wrapped an arm around his midsection and lifted him clean off his feet. A cry fell from his lips when they plummeted down through the trapdoor, just before it sealed closed. 

The hobbit couldn’t scream, the air knocked out of his lungs. He flailed and thrashed, but Legolas held tight as they fell down towards the raging rapids. His last thought was that he couldn’t swim before his body hit something solid, the hand on the back of his vest keeping him from suffer the full force of it. It was an empty barrel that had gotten stuck on the rocks along the shore, and Bilbo touched it the barrel as if not believing it. His stomach was still stuck in his throat, and he looked up at Legolas with eyes pale with fear. 

“A little warning next time, please!” The hobbit shouted. 

Legolas sent him a quick smile. “Hold tight. The waters are not tame,” the elf prince warned, kneeling down on the rock and shoving the barrel with the hobbit out into the churning depths. It only took seconds before Bilbo was washed downstream, just seconds behind the dwarves. The elven prince leapt along the shoreline from branches of trees, rocks with the gracefulness only the elven possessed and kept pace along the swift waters of the river. 

“Well done, Master Baggins,” Thorin shouted, once Bilbo’s barrel had caught up to theirs. His smile was not long lived when his blue eyes honed into on Legolas, and the hobbit shuddered at the intense look of hatred there. However, he had no time to act on his aggression as elves appeared from passages throughout the Woodland realm to stop them from escape. 

Sunbeams cut through the shadows, the dwarves came upon a waterfall. 

“Look out!” Fili screamed. 

“Brace!” Thorin warned, only seconds plunged through the rapids. The barrels tipped over the edge of the waterfall, and the water swallowed the dwarves, spitting them back out only seconds later. Bilbo held his breath, the icy water rushed over him and the entire world disappeared. His heart stopped for those fleeting seconds that lasted far too long for his liking, and let out a sigh of relief when the barrel popped back up to the river’s surface. The barrel rocked to and fro making him sick to his stomach, and he held on for dear life when heard a shout ring out through the woods. _“Holo in-annon!”_

Legolas moved faster, not wanting to be caught by his kinsmen and did not wish to engage them in combat, either. He moved faster towards the sluice gate where the guards pulled a lever to shut it and block the river. The horn is sounded, alarming anyone within earshot of trespasser, and he moved faster for the dwarves have come to a standstill. 

“No!” Thorin slammed his first against in frustration and anger. 

The elven guards made the move to recapture the prisoners, when a black arrow soar through the air and struck of the guards in the back. The elf fell into the water dead, and the entire forest seemed to hold its breath. A vicious growl erupted from the silence, and in a blink of an eye, the guardpost was swarmed with orcs. They appeared out of every shadow and crevice as if spawned out of thin air, and chaos unleashed all around the Company. 

* * *

Elizabeth dropped down flat on her stomach to avoid the orc that Bombur threw clean off the back of the wagon. She pushed herself up to her knees and twisted around to bury a dagger—one of Fili’s many daggers she grabbed out of the barrel—straight through the heart of an orc that leapt down onto the side of the wagon. It’s jaw fell open in shock, and Elizabeth pulled the blade free as the body slumped. It fell and rolled underneath the wheels to knock the wagon about. 

“Can’t you keep this blasted thing steady, elf?” Bombur complained, when he slammed into the side with a loud thud. 

“Would you like to drive dwarf? If not, I would cease your complaints!” Tauriel shot back, just as fiercely. 

“One battle at a time, if you please!” Elizabeth admonished them both. “We have enough enemies at our heels, without you two at each other’s throat! Speaking of enemies, we have warg riders!” She pointed to the beast and their riders that burst out of the undergrowth and now chased them down the way. 

“Elizabeth, take the reins!” Tauriel ordered. Elizabeth didn’t hesitate and pulled herself to the front. As soon as the reins were passed over, Tauriel hopped into the back of the wagon with Bombur. “Think you can curb the urge to stab me in the back, dwarf?” 

“As long as you keep your arrows out of my face, lassie,” Bombur snorted, “we won’t be having a problem.” 

Tauirl smirked, slightly. She withdrew her bow and fired of arrows at an inhuman speed that, striking the wargs in the eyes. The beasts howled and thrashed, throwing their riders about dangerously. The elf then aimed her arrows at the orcs, intent on killing them as swiftly as possible. 

Elizabeth held the reins in a knuckle white grip, pulling them as they came around a curve. The wagon lifted off two wheels as it careened around the path, and she heard Bombur give a loud shout of panic while Tauriel grunted in surprise. The wagon flopped back down with a loud thud, and she could hear the wood crack. If the wagon went under too much more stress it would surely break apart. “We have to lose them Tauriel! The wagon will not hold if we continue like this!” 

“There is a bridge up ahead!” Tauriel shouted, in reply. “That is where we will lose them!” 

Elizabeth wasn’t sure she liked the sound of such a plan, but she urged the war stead faster down the path. As the thicket of trees cleared away from the path, she saw the bridge—old rickety, and looked like it had seen a good day in years. “We have to cross that? It has no railing! No sides!” Elizabeth shouted, while nothing the wagon would be just small enough to cross the bridge. As long as the wagon stayed straight and did not move left or right, otherwise they would be taking a long fall downward. She gulped, feeling beads of sweat dot her upper lip. 

Just as the horse’s hooves fell onto the first board of the bridge, an orc leapt out of a tree of all things and landed right behind Elizabeth. It’s hands wrapped around her throat, and she lost grip of the reins. The horse shriek, rushing forward wildly and the wagon wobbled dangerously on the old bridge. Claws bruised her flesh and nails sunk deep, and she gasped for air. She grabbed the knife of Fili’s that was looped along the waist of her dress, and with some difficulty thrust it into the orc’s arm. The orc shouted, releasing her and she stabbed him in the gut. Shoving him with her elbow, the orc off the wagon with a grunt and her fingers fumbled to grasp the reins. 

Her breaths shallow, she managed to pull the horse steady before it pitched the wagon off of the bridge. Once they were on solid ground, she heard Tauriel shout for her to halt. Pulling the reins tight, Elizabeth whirled around to peer at the elf. “What are you doing, Tauriel?” She demanded, her heart thundering in her chest. 

“Dwarf,” Tauriel cut away the rope that held him in place. “Do your legs work?” 

“Aye, well enough,” Bombur said, suspiciously. “Why?” 

“I will fend the fell creatures off while you use the axe to bust the bridge posts,” the guard captain stated, fiercely. “But we must be swift. I sense their foulness in the air meaning that there is more nearby.” 

Bombur nodded, after a moment. He lumbered to his feet with a great groan and jumped off the end of the wagon. He clutched his axe in his hands and marched towards the bridge post while Tauriel pulled an arrow back once orcs appeared on the other side. She fired arrow after arrow as fast as her nimble fingers would allow as Bombur rampaged against the first bridge post. Elizabeth got out of the wagon, intent of helping them the best she could when suddenly her vision blurred. Liquid fire licked up her throat, like her blood had become fire and her muscles spasm violently. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground, unable to breathe. 

Tauriel whirled around, her eyes widened when she saw the state Elizabeth was in. Her body lurched torn between fighting off the orcs, and going to her friend’s aid. 

“Don’t!” Elizabeth croaked, shaking her head. Her eyes flickered towards Bombur pointedly, trying to tell Tauriel with her expression to stick by the dwarf’s side and watch his back against the oncoming orcs. She could see the struggle on Tauriel’s expression, but the red headed elf resumed her task of shooting down enemies. 

Her fingernails clawed into the dirt, and Elizabeth tried to push herself up when pure agony slashed down her spine. The pain that crashed through her like a tidal wave seemed to splinter and fragment her mind, casting her thoughts and worries to the wind. Her eyes burned as if they had been set ablaze, and Elizabeth had to clench them tightly shut. It felt like her soul was being shaved away layer by layers, and her heart sputtered in her chest, like an old broken machine. 

She barely heard Bombur shout of triumph when he smashed up the large posts holding the bridge steady, and the crash of the rickety bridge that followed. With them rushing across it with the wagon and the broken posts, followed by a flood of orcs and wargs—the old bridge couldn’t handle it anymore. She thrashed in the mud, gasping and choking. A sinister snake-like hiss reverberated through her skull, and spoke in a voice that left ice in her blood, “The lake shall burn, and the mountain shall fall!” 

Elizabeth saw Tauriel rushing towards her, then no more. 

* * *

Battle ensued all around the dwarves, with elves clashing against the orcs. But they all knew they couldn’t stay here, especially given that the orcs seemed more intent on getting to the dwarves than really fight the elves, at all. It was Kili who took innovative and pushed himself up out of the barrel. “What are you doing, boy?” Bofur said, his voice high-pitched. 

“Kili!” Fili shouted, eyes wide. 

Thorin whirled around, panic etched onto his features when he realized just what Kili was attempting to. “Foolish boy, you’ll get yourself killed!” Thorin shouted, angry and terrified in the same moment. 

“If we stay, we all die!” Kili called back, dodging and weaving between the sea of battle towards the lever that would release the sluice gates. The orcs threw themselves at the dwarves in their barrels, seeing easy and vulnerable prey. Biblo managed to stab his blade Sting clean through the orc’s skull while Dwalin elbow on in the face, knocking him down into the water. 

An arrow flew out of nowhere, killing the orc before it could rise and attack again. Dwalin’s head snapped around, and his eyebrows shot upward when he realized that the elf was rushing to their aid. He moved like a blur, dodging his kin but tearing through the orcs while guarding Kili’s back. “What in Mahal’s name is going on here? You see that!” He glanced at Thorin, to make sure his eyes were indeed working. 

Thorin’s brows knotted together, and his jaw set tight. 

Bilbo wanted to speak up, and explain yet he had a feeling that this would only make the current situation worse. It would be best to save explanations for a time when they were not in danger, and he had Elizabeth to act as a shield in case the dwarves decided to throttle him. 

Legolas tossed Kili a sword from a fallen elf, and Kili caught it with a flabbergasted look, only hesitating for all of a second before fighting against the orc that stood in his path. Another orc leapt down, intent on stabbing Kili in the back but Legolas crossed blades with the beast, shielding the dwarf prince’s back. The fight was a swirl of motion and sound, as chaotic as a raging hurricane with no end in sight. Suddenly, a cry tore from Kili’s lips and the dwarf looked down to see an arrow buried into upper thigh, just above his knee. His fingers touched it almost as if in disbelief, and it was only Legolas’s swiftness that pulled Kili out of the way of a fatal shot. There on the other side of the gate was a big orc, with skin pale. 

“That’s….that’s not Azog,” Kili said, a hint of fear in his voice. 

“Another pale orc?” Legolas breathed out. 

Kili shook off his stupor, and his large hands grasped the lever. With all his might, he pulled it down while Legolas shot arrows at the mysterious pale orc forcing the fiend to block and retreat in order not to be skewed. The orc shouted in his dark tongue and pointed at the elven prince, clearly marking Legolas for death. The prince shoved Kili back towards his barrel, and Kili leapt off the edge into the his empty barrel. The arrow in his leg snapped, and he cried out in pain. 

The gates were opened, and the water pulled the barrels greedily, pulling them towards another waterfall. Legolas peered over his shoulder, and saw more the elven guard appearing out of the wood works. The orcs were being slaughtered, and the mysterious pale one knew this, too. He shouted in rage, ordering his orcs to fall back and chase after the dwarves. Certain that his kin would prevail of the dark creatures, Legolas felt only a small guilt of turning his back on them and going after the dwarves. He had given Elizabeth his word, and he would hold himself to his promises. 

Bilbo yelped, when he plunged over the edge of the waterfall. Downward the dwarves and hobbit spiraled into the rapids, and the orcs followed the river by way of the shore. The dwarves tried to paddle and steer with their hands, but it was impossible. The river’s waters were too untamed, too wild and demanded they submit to its currents. The river began to narrow out, and the orc archers got close enough to start shooting at the dwarves. Legolas whirled around, slashing his dagger clean across the throat of two orcs then knocking their weapons down to the Company. 

Thorin caught a sword, and lashed out against the nearest of orc. It fell with a harsh cry into the waters below, and was dragged away into the depths. The other weapon which was a dagger was caught by caught by Fili, and the blond dwarf threw into, striking an orc right between the eyes. An orc leapt onto Dwalin’s barrel, and Dwalin seized it by its throat, smashing his skull into the orc’s. The orc went limp with shock, and Dwalin stole its axe then dropped the fiend unceremoniously into the fierce rapids. 

A low-hanging tree branch stretched across the river in front of them, and several orcs lined along it. Some with bows drawn and others crouched down to leap on top of them as they floated underneath the log. “Cut it down!” Thorin ordered, for Dwalin was at the front of the Company and the only one that could stop the attack before it happened. 

Gritting his teeth, Dwalin lifted his axe and swung against the log with all his might. The log gave way with a loud snap, and the orcs gave shouts of rage and anger as they plummeted into the water. Bilbo whacked an orc that attempted to climb on his barrel with Sting, causing the creature to slide back down into the river. 

Legolas leapt off the riverbank, and lands with a foot on the head of two dwarves, much to his amusement and their chagrin. With a careful aim, he shot an arrow that skewered two orcs through the head. He fought the orcs off, using the heads of the dwarves as stepping stones and smirking slightly at the shouts that followed him. He landed on the other side of the bank, not realizing that an orc had snuck up behind him. Thorin had a moment, battling with himself before he threw the sword and it lanced through the fiend’s back. 

Legolas whirled around, looking at Thorin with surprise and then nodded his head. An understanding passed through them, and the elf followed them at a more subdued pace, now that all the orcs seemed dead. 

* * *

Bolg growled, dangerously. His narrowed his eyes intent on chasing the dwarves, but arrows shot down in the path in front of him and his minions. His head snapped back to look at the growing group of elves that were pursuing them. Realizing that he could not hunt the dwarves down with the elves nipping at their heels, and displeasure twisted making his grotesque features even more unpleasant. He barked out harshly, to order his orcs to fall back. They would catch the dwarves near the town of men, they would have to pass through there in order to reclaim their mountain. 

* * *

Miles away, Gandalf walked up a hill and his grey eyes stared solemnly at the ruins. He drew in a deep breath, and made his way forward, holding his staff tightly in his grasp. He climbed down a narrow stone ledge built into the side of a tall, bare mountain. It was as if the lands were withered and void of all life. He reached a door in the side of the mountain, and he went to step forward and the stone ledge he stood on crumbled away. With swift hands, he caught himself before he fell away. He stepped onto a stone that still held, and his eyes widened on the metal interlocking bars. It had once barred and covered the doorway, now were broken and bent outward. 

With an ominous feeling in his chest, Gandalf stepped through the doorway and into a short tunnel going into the mountain. Suddenly without warning, the wizard was pulled an invisible force and he was pulled swiftly into the mountain. The tunnel end in a vast, cavernous hollow in the mountain, and the ground fell away into the distance at the end of the tunnel. The grey wizard managed to stop himself from falling into the pit, and he let out a shuddering a deep breath. Regaining his footing, he blew the end of his staff and made it glow. The light illuminated the shadows, and he examined his surroundings with a suspicious look in his eyes. On the far wall of the cavern, there was a door similar to the one at the entrance and he walked carefully across the narrow path to approach it. 

It was crypt that laid on the inside, and the tomb’s cover had been broken. The sight of it confirmed many of his fears, and he took cautiously steps forward when his ears caught a slight noise. He moved forward, and startled when a bird came flying out of the tomb. He whirled around to find Radagast standing behind him. The bird lands on the brown wizard’s shoulder, shuddering and shivering. 

“Radagast, do not give me such a fright! My old heart would surely expire,” the grey wizard huffed, lightly. 

Radagast shifted, nervously. “Why am I here, Gandalf?” 

“Trust me, Radagast. I would not have called you here without good reason,” Gandalf said. 

“This is not a nice place to meet,” Radagast said, fidgeting with the edge of his hat. His dark eyes flickered around the tomb, and his chin quivered ever so slightly. 

“No, it is not,” Gandalf agreed. The two wizards made their way back into cavern, and they approached the ways were ancient enchantments had been carved. 

“These are dark spells, Gandalf. Old, and full of hate. Who was buried here?” Radagast shivered, a frown sat upon his brow. 

Gandalf had a distance look in his eyes, of times long before now. “If he had a name, it’s long since been lost. He would have been known only as a servant of evil. One of a number. One of nine,” he said, quietly. He lifted his staff, releasing the light held within to illuminate the lower part of the cavern, and revealed eight other crypts. All the metals bent and broken from the inside of the crypts out. 

The two wizards made to leave the mountain shortly after. “Why now, Gandalf? I don’t understand. What could have drawn such foulness from their tombs?” Radagast swallowed, thickly. “This is not good. Not good at all.” 

Gandalf sighed, heavily. “The Ringwraiths have been summoned to Dol Guldur.” 

“But it cannot be the Necromancer. A human sorcerer could not summon such evil,” Radagast frowned, deeply. “Unless…” He trailed off, and he lifted his frightened gaze up to meet Gandalf’s. A horrid realization dawned on his features, and he whispered out, “No…no…surely not.” 

“The Nine only answer to one master. We’ve been blind, Radagast, and in our blindness, the Enemy has returned,” the grey wizard confirmed, his tone grim and severed. “He is summoning his servants. Azog the Defiler is no ordinary hunter. He is a commander, a commander of legions. The enemy is preparing for war. It will begin in the east. His mind is set upon that mountain.” 

“Where will you go? What will you do?” Radagast inquired. 

“To rejoin the others. They must know that a dragon is not the only enemy they will face at the end of this journey,” Gandalf answered, his knuckles blanched white as he held his staff in grip. His grey looked solemn in the distance where the Lonely Mountain stood as soon as they reached the top of the path way, and had an non-obscured view of their surroundings. “I started this; I cannot forsake them. They are all in grave danger.” 

“Gandalf, I understand your feelings, but your duty is not to protect a group of fifteen no matter how much you care for them. It to that of Middle-Earth above all,” Radagast stated, with a sorrowful look in his eyes. “If what you say is true, the world is in grave danger. The power in that fortress will only grow stronger.” 

Gandalf looked away. “You would have me cast my friends aside?” 

* * *

In quiet hour morning, where it was darkest upon the dawn the hills and lands of plenty that were filled with content hobbits blazed bright in fire and ash. Screams echoed through the forest as fiends descended upon the Shire in search of the hobbit named Baggins. It was only by the grace of Yavanna and the ancient magics of the land that saved the lives of many hobbits as it could, but everyone knew when the sunlight spilt over the valley driving the fiends away that the land would remain forever changed. For days, the hobbits feared that the fell creatures—far worse than orcs and wargs from the Fell Winter—would return, and eradicate them all. 

A ranger named Strider and his men—and Ivy Goldchild in their company of all things!—had arrived in the midst of the chaos, and had helped keep them alive through the night. Everyone looked to Gerontius Took who was the Thain of the Shire for guidance, and the older man had feared a day would come that a shadow would drive them from their lands. He had felt in his old bones when the Fell Winter had come that the lands, but the snow had melted away. The sun and light had returned, but this new darkness was something differently. Something that would slowly poison them and their green lands; it wished to strike out every bright light in all of Middle-Earth. He had kept such fears to himself over the next few days when the fiends did not return, but they would not leave him. As he smoked his pipe, he regarded the ranger Strider with a serious gaze. “You are the one that Elizabeth claims as family, aye?” He asked, wearily. 

“Aye, that is true,” Strider answered, with only the smallest amount of hesitance. 

“I thought so,” Gerontius nodded, solemnly. “She mentions you in passing. Mentioned you are knowledgeable as well as honorable.” 

“I would like to think so.” 

“Then tell me, Strider the Honorable, do you believe we are safe?” Gerontius asked, seriously. “Or do you sense it like I do? That those beast came looking for one thing, and saw us…and _hated us._ I imagine their kind are full of hate, but this was…” He couldn’t even find words to describe it. “Hobbits are meant to grow, and to nurture the world. We are children of the green lands, and a hobbit without a place to do such suffers immensely. It _hated_ that, and wanted us to wither and die. I felt that when it looked into my eyes, and I fear that they will return to ensure that we do just that—wither away into dust.” 

“I cannot tell you what to do, Gerontius,” Strider commented, slowly. “But I can tell you that your instincts are right. I do not pretend to know the minds of such evil, but they have unending rage against life itself. I would not put it beyond the realm of possibility that they would return just to bring you and the Shire further harm.” 

Gerontius nodded. “I see.” 

“I am sorry,” Strider bowed his head, a twist of sympathy in his sharp features. 

“It is not the first time that we hobbits have had to leave our lands, but it will be hard. We have a thousand years being cradled in the safety of this place, and perhaps we fooled ourselves into believing that it would last forever,” Gerontius commented, sadly. “But we aren’t warriors. We are just gentlehobbits, made up of farms, scholars and the like. Why chance do we have to live in peace forever without having protection to keep such enemies at bay? The Fell Winter should have taught us that.” 

Strider stayed silent, unable to offer any words of solace. 

Gerontius raised his head, and looked at his granddaughter who sat quietly in the chair, wrapped up in her late grandmother’s shawl staring at the wedding ring on her finger with a blank look on her face. “Primula, my dear,” he said, softly as though not to startle her. 

Primula raised her head, but stared at him with dead eyes. 

“Please go retrieve Ivy Goldchild for me. There is a task that I must beseech her and Strider to undertake while the rest of us salvage everything we can before we must leave these lands,” Gerontius stated, firmly. He knew that some hobbits would not leave. Too fearful or stubborn, but he could see it inside of his mind that to do such would be a folly. They would surely perish if they stayed. He did not know what sent him such a vision, or why, but he knew in his heart that it would come to pass if they did not leave. 

There was a flash of understanding in Primula’s gaze, and she lifted herself with great care to her feet. “I understand, papa,” she nodded, then gave a short bow—sticking to her manners and sensibilities was an automatic reaction—before she walked out of the small room. 

“I hate to burden you with our troubles,” Gerontius sighed, heavily. He dragged his gnarled, old hands down his face before he looked at Strider with a desperate sort of hope. “But we cannot leave here until we have retrieved it. Centuries ago, we hobbits were entrusted with an object of importance. One that cannot fall into evil hands at all cost.” 

“What is it that you wish for me to retrieve?” Strider asked, with a frown. 

“The last of Yavanna’s light.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * *
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed! I really enjoyed starting to stitch the story all together. We knew that the Ring Wraiths were heading towards the Shire, and that it would have some big effect. Ivy Goldchild who hasn’t been seen since the beginning, but we knew that she would return—and her role in the story revealed, as well as, brining Strider in and syncing up his part with the overall plot of the story. This is the start of where you, the readers, will see the shift from cannon more and more, but also how it incorporates the Lotr and Middle-Earth lore, so it wouldn’t feel completely alien or like a true departure, but more of an alternate reality if the stars had aligned just so. :D  
> Next Chapter: An unseen foe is on the rise, the Company is reunited and doesn’t know what to make of their new allies. Elizabeth’s condition worsens. Elizabeth and Thorin share a moment. Legolas inquires to Kili’s intentions towards his friend. Lake Town gives them a lukewarm welcome.  
> Pairings: Thorin/Elizabeth, Bilbo/Ivy, Strider/Arwen, Kili/Tauriel (Thorin and Elizabeth are the main focus, while the other three are secondary. There will be surprise pairings that will crop up later in the story, but they will be in the background and not heavily influence the story in any significant way as these do.)  
> What Gerontius Took means by “nurture and grow”. There is more to it than that. They are caretakers, meant to help protect the world and kept it from decaying. It is why the Shire was such a thriving, beautiful lands is because the hobbits have a beautiful connection to it, but gardening isn’t the only way that a hobbit can help. There is family, too. Not just having a family and babies, but adopted families, too. Human interaction—of hobbit interaction in this case—is vital for a person to grow healthy, and having that contact, not becoming isolated is very important. There’s more to it, but this is the just the cliffnotes. :D

**Author's Note:**

> RRs are appreciated and if anyone could give me pointers on how to edit my chapters such as how to put things in bold, or more, it would be helpful. This is my first time on this site! I am transferring my fics from fanfiction.net over here, so I hope you will enjoy them. :D


End file.
